


To Build a Home

by abigaylefayth



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Graphic Violence, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, its gonna be a bumpy ride folks, like really slowburn so prepare, undertones of ptsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigaylefayth/pseuds/abigaylefayth
Summary: "See, some people – the lucky ones – could live their lives oblivious to the tribulations that the world had to offer. They could be ignorant to pain. To the horrifying things that one person could do to another. They could live in bliss and in wealth. They could glide through their lives as easily as a knife cuts through flesh…Clarke Griffin had looked to be one of them. Two successful parents. A big house. Intelligent. Beautiful. A promising, bright future. Talented… She had everything. But she knew pain. She knew just how swiftly life could come up and steal happiness.Because it did. It came up, saw the perfect casing of her “perfect” life and said, “You’re too lucky.”And it took from Clarke her happiness. Replaced it with pain. Then kicked her while she was down.Because sometimes… Sometimes the “perfect” were the unlucky ones."ORWhat if two broken people could be each other's saviors?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! It's Abi. The author (lol). This is quite a bit different than my other work Drowning Slowly. In which is a lot more light hearted than this will be. I really wanted to create a gritty and interesting story for people to enjoy with our two faves as the leading loves. I already have the first few chapters written and will be updating (hopefully) weekly! Thanks for clicking on this and hope you enjoy :)

Life was funny.

It was funny in the way that everything could be perfect one moment and in shambles the next. It was funny in a way that somebody out there could be having a completely normal, boring day while another’s world could be falling around them. It was funny in a way that … every moment was fleeting – every _life_ was fleeting – and in the blink of an eye everything would be turned upside down and inside out. Backwards and irreversible.

It was funny in a way that… you could survive hell but still feel like you were in it.

It was funny in that way… where it wasn’t funny at all.

 It was tragic. And scary. And full of sharp turns and plummets that made someone’s stomach feel like it was trying to eject itself from their head. And it was ironic – oh-so freaking ironic.

See, some people – the lucky ones – could live their lives oblivious to the tribulations that the world had to offer. They could be ignorant to pain. To the horrifying things that one person could do to another. They could live in bliss and in wealth. They could glide through their lives as easily as a knife cuts through flesh…

Clarke Griffin had looked to be one of them. Two successful parents. A big house. Intelligent. Beautiful. A promising, bright future. Talented… She had everything. But she knew pain. She knew just how swiftly life could come up and steal happiness.

Because it did. It came up, saw the perfect casing of her “perfect” life and said, “You’re too lucky.”

And it took from Clarke her happiness. Replaced it with pain. Then kicked her while she was down.

Because sometimes… Sometimes the “perfect” were the unlucky ones.

 

+++

She hated being the new girl. It was her first time ever being new anywhere and she already knew she hated it.

Clarke Griffin stood perplexed in the brightly lit hallway of Ark High School as she read and reread her newly printed schedule. The students milling all around her paid her no attention as she drew her brows together and frowned. After ten minutes of walking up and down the maze of hallways the town of Ark, Oregon called a school, Clarke proclaimed herself lost. And most definitely directionally challenged.

She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand, as if she hadn’t already committed it to memory, and read: _Anatomy and Physiology, room 106._ One of the few electives that she got to take – one of the few classes she was actually going to _enjoy_ – and of course she would end up making a fool of herself the moment she stepped foot into the classroom after the bell.

Clarke had no intention of being revealed as the new girl, but she’d bet all of her art supplies that the teacher was probably going to be one _those_ kinds. The ones that would inevitably make the new person stand in front of the class and introduce themselves. She really wanted to just silently slip to the back of the class unnoticed… but being late would’ve made that rather difficult.

A series of expletives ran through her mind.

As much as Clarke _really_ hadn’t wanted to have to use the map the lady in the front office had given to her – c’mon, it was like having an “I’m new!!” sign flashing above her head – there were little options. She’d have rather taken this route then being permanently stapled as the helpless new girl by whatever teacher it was that was teaching her A&P class.

Clarke was anything but helpless. She just really didn’t need any sort of extra attention brought to her.

Damn she really hated being new. And she was slightly beginning to panic. Starting her Junior year at a random high school in the middle of nowhere… well, it wasn’t going to be fun.

But… she was Clarke Griffin. She had been through a lot worse. She could handle being a new girl. She could handle a simple hallway (even though it seemed like a fucking _maze_ at the moment). And she could sure as hell handle dealing with whatever trouble the boring town of Ark, Oregon threw at her. Because, quite simply, there was no greater hell than that horrific night…

She shook her head to steer her thought process from delving into a dark part of her mind and started forward, pulling the crumpled school map from the messenger bag at her side.

 _She was going to get through this._  She could prove her mother wrong and she could try to live a normal life again.

Distracted, she must have picked up speed because when she whirled around the corner she had no time to register the person looming in front of her. She collided with the weirdly hard human, belongings scattering all over the hallway floor. She swore, _Jesus Christ was this person a fucking wall?_ She was supposed to be avoiding drawing any attention to herself, and here she was making an embarrassing scene.

_Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!_

“Are you blind?” she heard a deep voice growl from above her, “Because I’m pretty fucking sure I’m not invisible.”

She looked up, fully prepared to snap a quick, insincere, apology back at the mystery person she had just assaulted but was taken aback for a moment. The boy standing above her was possibly the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. Dark disheveled hair curled around his ears. His eyes were slanted ever-so slightly in a way that suggested he must have had some kind of Asian ancestry and a spattering of freckles danced across his olive skin.

He looked to be the epitome of tall dark and handsome. Chiseled jaw, muscular build, and the classic bad boy scowl plastered across his face.

Clarke immediately decided she hated him.

“So, you must be deaf too.”

Clarke snapped out of her reverie and scowled. She forced herself up, belongings tucked back under her arm, and faced the new-found ass standing in front of her. He was at least another half foot taller than her, and could probably lift three times her size, but Clarke didn’t let it intimidate her.

 _Don’t get into any more trouble than you already have._ Echoed her mother’s words in her head. _If you really know what’s best for you, you’d lay low._

Balling her hands into a fist at her side, she fixed him with a tight smile, “Not blind or deaf, just new. Don’t quite know where I’m going. Sorry.”

The ass in front of her quirked an eyebrow, “New huh?” His eyes flickered up and down her body and a smirk settled on his handsome face.

The only thing that stopped Clarke from snapping at him was the incessant _lay low_ repeating in her head. Even though she had exchanged all of six words with the boy standing in front of her, something about him put her on edge. Like his very point of his existence was to be a nuisance in her life.

“Yes, new. Now please excuse me while I try to find my class,” she quipped, moving to step around him.

That was when she noticed the little two-person entourage standing behind him, nervously exchanging glances. One was handsome with dark, caramel skin, the slightest hint of a 5 -o’clock shadow, and sported a red beanie, while the other – well, the only way she could describe him was that he had almost _impish_ features. He was shorter than the first, had a mop of brown hair that looked almost as if it hadn’t been washed in a week, and brandished a deep bruise just below his cheek bone. He caught her studying them and gave her a wink.

Clarke only scowled and readjusted her shoulder strap. Of course mister jerkface would have a little posse of delinquents. Just her luck.

As she moved to walk past them, she felt a warm hand encircle her arm. For half a second her thoughts nearly went spiraling back into the dark places she had tried so hard to crawl out of for so many months, the touch bringing back brutal, unwanted memories.

_Lay low._

She jerked her arm out of the delinquent leader’s grasp and sharply spun back around to face him, “Don’t you _ever_ touch me again, you hear me?”

If the new boy was surprised at her outburst he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely gave a cocky half smirk and said, “Brave Princess.”

Clarke flared her nostrils and opened her mouth to ask this kid who exactly he thought he fucking was when the taller of his two little henchmen spoke up behind her.

“Bellamy, just leave the poor girl alone.”

Bellamy, huh? So this asshat had a name after all… Kinda melodious, she had to admit. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy. It disgusted her.

Bellamy ignored him, “You got a name, new girl?” he said sardonically.

And it was in that moment that Clarke realized the whispering. She glanced around and noticed that the once bustling bodies of rushing students, well, they weren’t rushing around anymore. They were lingering, scattered around them watching every movement as if it were their favorite soap opera.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

“Nope.” she said, deadpan. There was an almost audible gasp from a person somewhere off to her left.

Too much attention. There was way too much attention on her.

Apparently not liking the answer, his mouth formed a tight line before deciding to reply, “Nope?”

“Yup.” And she turned in an attempt to escape this unwanted, un _needed,_ spotlight that this infuriating boy had thrust upon her.

She made it two steps when he opened his mouth again.

“Just watch where the fuck you’re going next time,” she heard him say in a low voice.

A deep breath, and she took another step away from him. She had, what? Thirty seconds before the bell rang at this point? She really didn’t have time for him.

But apparently, he didn’t like the fact that she had ignored him because the next thing she knew he was right behind her, hand firmly placed on her shoulder. And before she could stop herself she was turned around and in his face in half a second.

“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, or if you’re just dense, but I’m nearly positive that not ten seconds ago I told you not to touch me. And if you had an ounce of intelligence in that big head of yours, maybe, just _maybe_ , you’d know how to respect boundaries.”

She was not even inches away from him at this point, but she didn’t care. Not about the gasps or the way Bellamy’s eyes seemed to darken… All she saw was red. She did not move across the damn country to be harassed on her first day in her new high school.

And then, before her very eyes, this infuriating boy whom she knew nothing about and just verbally assaulted, threw is head back and laughed. It wasn’t a genuine laugh, but a short and barked - one that seemed to mock her.

The kids surrounding them seemed to laugh nervously, unsure of what to make of what they were witnessing… but Clarke… all Clarke could think was _What in the everloving_ fuck _was wrong with him?_

As her fists curled at her sides, she fixed him with a quizzical stare. How dare he laugh at her in such an utterly dismissive way?

“Cute,” he said unenthusiastically, the scowl he now held completely replacing any sign of the mischievous twinkle he showed before, “Listen, stay out of my way and you and I won’t have any problems. Got it?”

It was Clarke’s turn to bark a laugh. She took another step closer to him, standing as tall as she could and looked directly into Bellamy’s molten brown eyes. He would not underestimate her. She had endured a lot worse than a self-entitled jackass causing unnecessary trouble.

“The only thing I’ve ‘got’ is the new-found knowledge that your dick is probably the size of a tic-tac because the only way you could be this big of an asshat is if it all went into your personality,” she heard the two goons behind her break into exasperated laughter and felt herself smirk, “Now, I don’t know who pissed in your cheerios this morning, or if you’re just a misogynistic, pompous prick who loves to talk down to women because it feeds his falsely masculine ego, but you should know that I am not one to be trifled with. How about _you_ stay out of _my_ way and we go on minding our own damn business.”

A flicker of unreadable emotion went across Bellamy’s face ending in a vicious scowl. But it wasn’t directed at Clarke this time, it was directed at his friends that stood behind her - whom of which at this point were absolutely hysterical with laughter. All the kids that were scattered around them stood frozen in shock, staring stupidly with their mouths slightly ajar.

Bellamy’s gaze met hers for one menacing moment and she watched as his jaw ticked with malice.

But Clarke did not care. In fact, she felt more invigorated than intimidated. She stared at him right back, a challenge glinting in her eye. Screw laying low, at least for right now – this was the first time since… since the _incident_ that she had felt even remotely exhilarated or proud of herself.

And it stayed that way for all of half a second because in the next moment the bell signaling the start of class sounded and all she could think was _fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post the second chapter for sake of keeping interest. I know the first chapter was pretty short. 
> 
> btw, the title comes from the song by The Cinematic Orchestra

_Eight years earlier…_

“Clarke honey, come inside and wash up. Your father is on his way home from headquarters and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hug somebody that’s all covered in chalk dust,” Abby Griffin called from inside the kitchen.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, the sky awash with the pinks and purples of a typical Virginia summer sunset. Birds chirped, fireflies were just beginning to appear, and a young Clarke Griffin sat upon the concrete patio just outside of the back doorway, a plethora of colorful chalk splayed around her.

“Okay Momma, be right in!” replied Clarke. She had spent most of her day playing in the spacious back yard of her family home, zipping in and out for sake of snacks and replenishing art supplies. With it being a cool day, the windows were able to be left open allowing for Abby to be only a shout away were there any trouble.

It was the ideal picture of an ideal family.

Clarke sat looking quizzically upon her current art work and tapped her tiny finger on her chin in thought. She was talented for a girl of only nine years old, already obtaining the ability to recreate the nature around her in a rather realistic way – her current subject matter being the evening sky in front of her.

Something wasn’t quite right with it though, and she wanted to present to her dad the finished “piece”. The pride that she saw flare up in his eyes whenever she showed him a piece of her work made her feel warm inside, and she always wanted to impress him, no matter if it was merely a chalk drawing on the back porch.

Should she add more purple? Or maybe it was the pink she was lacking… She pursed her lips, unable to determine which it was, and wiped her hands on her t-shirt.

“Clarke! Now!” came her mother’s voice, causing her to jump a little. She sighed, deciding she shouldn’t test Abby’s patience, and scrambled to get inside.

“Sorry Momma, I was only trying to make sure that the picture I was drawing was perfect for Daddy…”

She stepped up to the sink beside her mother, who was busy chopping away at veggies for a salad, to wash her hands.

Abby turned to her and wiped the smudge of chalk off her daughter’s chin, “Baby, you know he’d love anything you make no matter if it was finished or not.”

Clarke tugged her head away, attempting to avoid her mother’s grooming, “Yeah but still.”

Abby sighed, “Clarke, you’ve got chalk all over the shirt that your grandmother sent you for your birthday! You know she’s not as well off as we are, God knows she doesn’t accept help from me, you ought to take better care of the things she actually has the ability to send. Take it up to the laundry room. Go, before it stains sweet heart.”

Clarke muttered a small “sorry” as she exited the room, not being able to help but hear her mother grumbling about how math was so much less messy of a hobby to perform than art.

Though she never came outright and said it to her, Clarke knew that her mother wasn’t the biggest fan of the time she spent “dawdling” with colored pencils and water color paints. It made her sad.

After she bathed and changed into her pajamas, Clarke sat on her bed and couldn’t stop herself from sniffling a little bit. She wished she knew what it would be like for her mother to look upon her with pride for once… instead of that inquisitive stare she always had – the same one Clarke assumed she used when studying a patient.

A soft knock at her door caused her to look up.

“Dad!” She exclaimed, and barreled off the bed toward the man in the doorway, flinging herself onto him for a hug.

“Hey munchkin,” he said, ruffling her hair. He smiled widely, showing off the crow’s feet wrinkles on either side of his eyes.

“Did you catch the bad guys, Daddy?”

Jake Griffin laughed, “No honey, just a bunch of paper work today… But trust me, I’ll let you know the next time we’re searching for some, okay?” He poked her in the stomach, eliciting a small giggle. “What did I catch you in here being all sad about?”

“Oh, nothing…” she replied, looking down at her feet.

“’Nothing’ my eye. Clarke Griffin – toughest girl in all of Washington D.C. – doesn’t cry over ‘nothing’.”

“Okay, okay… Dad, do you think Mom likes my art?”

Jake looked taken aback for a moment, “What kind of question is that? Of course she does.”

“Well then how come she never says so?”

He kneeled down and drew her to his chest, “Well, Baby… how often does she tell you she loves you?”

“Not that often…”

“And do you still know she loves you?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Exactly. See Clarke, your mother is always so wrapped up in her own brain that sometimes she just forgets to express herself… But we both still know that she loves us with all her heart. She just… has a different way of expressing it.”

Clarke snuggled deeper into her father’s chest, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey,” he said, poking Clarke in the side, “I have a present for you.”

Clarke smiled widely, “What is it?”

Jake chuckled as he stood up to leave, “Be right back. Don’t move a muscle.”

When he returned, he held a leather-bound book with an inscription of her name on the very bottom and looked at her solemnly, “I meant to give this to you on your birthday last weekend, but you know how it is with work sweetie, so here it is now,” He held it out to her, “Your very first big girl sketchbook.”

Clarke gave a short squeal of glee as she took it and hugged it to her chest, “Daddy! I love it! It even has my name on it!”

Jake laughed as he watched his only daughter dance around her bedroom singing happily. He walked forward and took her by the shoulders, “Anything for my little munchkin,” and he kissed her on the top of her head. “Now, I expect a piece from that sketchpad to be in The Louvre sometime before I die, don’t disappoint me.”

Clarke giggled, “I’ll never be _that_ good, Dad”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, ruffling her hair once more, “Now hurry down to dinner so your mother doesn’t have a conniption fit.”

And with a wink, he left.

Clarke sighed happily and ran her hand over the front cover. Her very own sketchpad! She was so excited she could sing at the top of her lungs! But… she didn’t.

She opened up the front cover to see the crisp white paper and noticed there was a little note written on the inside cover. She smiled and sat as she read:

_Dear Munchkin,_

_Though you’re still young, I can already see what an intelligent and talented young lady you are. You will move on to do great things in your life. But remember, even though you might stumble in life, I will always be entirely proud of you; my Baby Girl. Use this sketchbook to go as far as I know you have the ability to go… and more. I love you with my whole heart._

_Forever proud,_

_Daddy._

+++

_Present Day_

Clarke sat alone at a secluded lunch table looking down at the battered sketch pad in front of her. She ran her fingers over the faded writing and squeezed her eyes shut. After the pad was gifted to her for her ninth birthday, she had taken it everywhere. To school, to the park… everywhere she went it was always neatly tucked into her bag waiting to be drawn in. And even eight years later, at the age of seventeen, it still followed her everywhere she went.

  _God,_ she missed her dad. She would give anything to hear his voice one last time… If only it meant she could tell him she was sorry. That she didn’t mean to fail him. That she did everything she could to try to save him…

She shook her head as if to clear away the demons. Wishful thinking, that’s all it was. And a way to get her to start crying… Clarke Griffin didn’t cry. She hadn’t shed one single tear since the funeral…. And she didn’t plan on it either.

She slammed the sketchbook shut and shoved it back into her shoulder bag. Beside the small escapade in the morning, the day had been rather uneventful. She had gone through her first three classes mostly unnoticed.  The only remnants of the morning’s happenings being the occasional whisper…

But that was okay. Clarke could handle whispers. Was used to them infact.

 _Enough,_ she thought. No more thinking of the past. Wasn’t that why she moved across country in the first place? To relieve herself of that crushing pressure on her chest? To avoid the growingly disappointed look she saw on her mother’s face?

Oregon was… nice. Boring, she had to admit, but still nice. Besides the encounter with the asshole… What was his name? Bartholomew?

Ha! That definitely wasn’t it… Something just as rare but definitely not that ugly…

Whatever. The point was, she was going to be okay. She could make it a year and a half until graduation.

And her grandmother… Well, she was a riot in all her own. So yeah, she would be fine.

Right?

More students began to mill into the cafeteria, the once quiet murmuring growing into a buzz of consistent chatter. Clarke decidedly pulled the paper bag she had hurriedly strewn food into that morning from her bag and set it on the lunch table in front of her. She made no move to remove the contents. She hardly had any appetite given her current circumstance of sitting quite obviously alone.

Clarke felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for her childhood best friend and her early high school years. She hadn’t had the biggest group of friends… It was more just that she was acquainted with all of the people who attended the small private school. She had never truly felt alone though. Because of Wells Jaha – the only person she had ever considered a true friend.

That was gone now.  Best put in the past and never thought of again.

 Clarke peered around the large cafeteria and watched as the tables began to fill. This was going to be her life for the next few years. Surely she would be able to survive it. It was quite different from the proper private schools she grew up attending… but it was still school after all. It couldn’t be that entirely different.

She grabbed her phone and began to idly scroll through her Facebook feed. It was the only form of social media she had allowed herself to keep since the incident, and even then she had only had a few friends on it.

Suddenly a tray clattered down across from Clarke, causing her to jump. She looked up to find the vaguely familiar face of a pretty Hispanic girl. She refrained from sighing aloud at the new intrusion.

“You looked pathetic over here all by your lonesome. Clarke is it? I’m Raven. Raven Reyes. I was in your second period Agro Science class? With Mr. Pike?”

“Uh, hey?” She placed her phone face down onto the table.

“Well don’t seem too excited about my company, jeez,” said Raven. She had her dark brown hair in a high ponytail and a face that seemed to easily express that she was not afraid to cut a bitch. Clarke decided she liked her.

She snorted, “Well, all day I’ve been practically invisible to everyone so I just wasn’t necessarily expecting you to stop by.” Not that that wasn’t exactly the way she wanted it…

“You? Invisible? After the stunt you pulled with Bellamy Blake this morning?” she whistled, “Please, you’re all anyone is talking about.”

Clarke winced, _Fuck._

“You heard about that?”

“ _Chica,_ word travels fast in AHS. It’s scary. I honestly think it’s why our school shares acronyms with _American Horror Story.”_

“But why is it even that big of a deal? So what, I stood up for myself…” Clarke said, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms emphatically.

“Shit if I know, but in this high school all of the single-minded people are absolutely feeding off of it,” Raven leaned forward, “Nobody messes with Bellamy Blake, they’re all absolutely terrified of him. That, or they wanna screw him. I can’t see why though, he just seems like a big gimmick to me.”

Clarke laughed, “My kinda girl.”

Raven smiled at her, “My thoughts exactly, it’s why I came over here when I saw you looking all miserable. Soon as I heard you showed Blake a new one, I decided I had to be friends with you.”

There was a silent exchange of smiles, and then Clarke allowed her mind to wonder a bit…

 “What’s up with him anyway? Why is everyone so scared of him?” she asked, not being able to help herself from inquiring. She was curious, she had to admit.

“He’s a bit of a hard-ass,” Raven replied simply, shrugging her shoulders, “there are a shit ton of rumors surrounding him. That he’s been arrested once or twice, that he’s a drug dealer, that he beats the shit out of people for the adrenaline rush. I can somewhat attest to the last statement though… I’ve seen the kid fight, he’s put some of them in hospitals for just blinking at his little sister.”

“His little sister?”

Raven jerked her head toward the opposite end of the cafeteria where the devil himself sat, back facing her. She could see the two boys she saw with him earlier as well. They were all laughing at something that was sure to be completely juvenile. Next to Bellamy sat a dainty looking brunette. Clarke didn’t see much of her considering her back was facing her as well, but even from this angle she could tell she had to be absolutely gorgeous.

“She’s a sophomore,” Raven explained, “Though she acts more like she’s twenty-five. And Bellamy is suuper protective of her. She was dating this guy Atom last year and Bellamy scared him right off. Dunno what he did exactly but the fight they had afterward could be heard almost through out the entire school. That girl is all feist, no sweet. Don’t let her girly exterior fool you.”

Clarke cocked an eyebrow, “Interesting… But if he has such a shady background then how come all the girls drool over him?” She was referring to the multiple girls who were surrounding him currently. One of which who was practically sprawled across his lap.

Raven barked a laugh, “Can you see the guy? He’s hot. Simple as that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes exasperatedly, “Jesus, they don’t even care that he’s gone to jail?”

“ _Rumored_ to have gone to jail,” Raven corrected, “I don’t know, I guess it’s the whole bad boy vibe he puts off. As well as him being a massive flirt. And he’s also said to be super good in bed.”

Clarke snorted a laugh, attempting and failing to cover it up as a cough.

“Laugh all you want but personally, I would ride him all the way to Australia and back.” Raven stated seriously, “If he wasn’t such a dick,” she finished after a second.

That caused Clarke to outright laugh. She leaned forward, appetite suddenly returning in full force, and grabbed the feeble container of salad from her bag. She studied Raven, with her big personality and her vivacious voice, and decided that yeah, she could handle this. Maybe she could allow herself to be friendly with at least one person. That wouldn’t be so harmful would it?

And then there was another tray clattering next to her. And another one directly after that.

“So this is New Girl Clarke. The one who told Evil King of Ark High he had a tiny dick,” came an unknown voice from her side.

Clarke glanced over and found two scrawny boys standing side by side. The one furthest from her was short and had a kind face with almond shaped eyes. And the boy closest was about half a foot taller than the other, with unruly brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye.

It was the latter who had spoken.

” _Ay,_ _cabrón,_ Really?” said Raven from in front of Clarke, “She’s been here all of three hours and that’s how you’re gonna introduce yourself?”

Clarke cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“This is my idiot friend Jasper, and behind him is Monty.” Explained Raven, rolling her eyes.

“The Dynamic Duo,” finished the boy – Jasper, she supposed.

His friend wrinkled his nose at him, “Dude, that’s not even cool anymore,” then turning to Clarke and holding out a hand for her to shake, he said, “Monty Green. I think we had A&P together? First period?”

Ohhh. Yeah, Clarke didn’t remember that at all. She had been way too busy trying to calm herself down after the encounter with Sir Dickwad.

She didn’t say that though, instead she offered her hand back to him, “Hi. Clarke Griffin. Nice to meet you…”

“Oh we know who you are, everybody knows who you are by now,” said Jasper. Monty smacked him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing the spot he was hit in, “It’s true.”

Raven rolled her eyes, “Sit down you idiot, you’re gonna pull attention over here.”

Monty hesitated, “It’s a bit too late for the Rae,” he said. Both of the boys sat in unison anyway.

Clarke began to look around the now completely filled cafeteria. It was true. Many eyes were locked on her, people whispering to each other under their breathes.

She groaned, “Don’t they have anything better to do? Jesus.”

“Unlikely,” said Raven, finally digging into the school lunch in front of her. It was a pathetic looking pile of wilted lettuce and cheese carelessly strewn on top. Raven didn’t seem to mind too much though.

If there was one thing Clarke was going to miss about her private school, it was the lunches.

“Hey, what are the rest of your classes for the day?” asked Jasper around a mouth full of hamburger. Raven made a face of disgust but seemingly let it slide when she returned her attention to her salad.

Clarke pulled her slightly crumbled schedule from her bag and handed it to him.

“Uh, see for yourself,” she said

Monty and Jasper’s heads leaned over it, their eyes scanning the piece of paper inquisitively.

“Eew you have AP Calculus last period? That’s gonna suck. It’s usually a class only offered to seniors,” Jasper wrinkled his nose, “You’re not a senior are you?”

“No, a junior.” _Unfortunately._

“Cool, same as us. And hey! You and I have next period together! Literature and Composition with Brown. He’s a good’n.” Jasper patted her head and grinned. Clarke couldn’t help but flash a smile back.

“So you’ve got atleast one class with all of us, _chica._ Not too shabby,” said Raven, kicking at Clarke’s leg lightly underneath the table and offering her a smirk. Her smile widened.

The rest of lunch went by seemingly in a blur. Clarke and her new friends chatted and laughed, all discussion of Bellamy Blake ceasing – which she was incredibly thankful for. She learned that Monty and Jasper had been best friends since they were toddlers, having grown up as neighbors, and that Raven had moved to Ark during middle school. (“These two _pendejos_ latched to me and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.” Raven had said, but with an endearing twinkle in her eye nonetheless.)

All three of them had eventually fenagled her into exchanging phone numbers with each of them, much to Clarke’s dismay. She had honestly wanted to keep her phone for emergency use only – hence her deleting all of her social media and changing her number. The only people she had had in her contact list was her mother and her grandmother. But Clarke had given in… without much of a fight she had to admit. She couldn’t help it, she already felt comfortable around them.

Her… friends. She had new friends now. And she was pretty freaking glad for that fact.

When the bell rang signaling the end of lunch, Jasper and Monty enveloped her into a big hug. Raven laughed and pat Clarke on the back with a mischievous wink.

She gathered her things and swung her bag over her shoulder to follow them out into the hallways when she felt it. She had gotten the slightest feeling that somebody was watching her. Her heart quickening in her chest, Clarke turned herself around to see who it was only to be met with the stare of…

Bellamy Blake.

He was watching her with what seemed to be a curious indifference, hands stuffed lazily into the pockets of his jeans and leaning back onto the cafeteria table. His eyes skated up and down her body, causing her to cross her arms over her chest.

What a _dick._

Heaving a big sigh, Clarke rolled her eyes and scowled at him, meeting his gaze with her own. A challenge. But if Clarke had been expecting any sort of rise from him, he didn’t deliver. The side of his mouth quirked with cocky amusion, seemingly unashamed in being caught watching her. He then gave her what could only be a condescending wink and turned his attention back to his friends where a short brunette was talking his ear off.

“Clarke, you coming or what?” She heard Jasper’s voice call. They had planned to walk to their English class together and he was most likely waiting impatiently by the door.

With one last withering glance toward Bellamy, she turned around and jogged to catch up with Jasper - The whole time unable to shake the image of Bellamy Blake’s sultry gaze out of her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get more info about Clarke's past!! But don't get too comfy, it'll be awhile before things are actually revealed. This was a short chapter. A little less than 2k words so I figured I would post it. Next chapter we really start diggin into the story so hold tight!

_Seven Months earlier…_

_  
_

_9-1-1 What’s your emergency?_

[Unintelligible]

_Ma’am? Ma’am, please calm down I can’t understand you._

… My daughter!

_Ma’am, I’ll need you take a deep breath and start from the beginning. That’ll be the only way I can properly assist you._

[Heavy breathing] … My name – My name is Abby Griffin. And my daughter… I – I don’t know where she is. A – And there’s – There’s [sobbing] There’s blood everywhere!

_Okay Ms. Griffin. Where are you? And your daughter? You say she’s missing?_

Yes! Yes, she was here! I left for only a moment to go to the store. She’s 16, I – I didn’t think I’d had to wor – worry about leaving her alone. She’s 16! [sobbing] I’m at home right now. The address is [redacted] Please! My husband – My husband is Agent Jake Griffin with the FBI but I can’t get ahold of him or - anybody – You have to help me! You have to find my Clarke!

_Okay ma’am. The police are on their way right now. Just stay on the line with me. You said there is blood?_

[sobbing] Everywhere! On the kitchen floor, the counter. Th-there’s one of our knives on the floor! Ohmygod. It looks as if somebody ransacked the place. Oh my - [heavy breathing] [unintelligible]

_Deep breaths Ma’am. In and out._

Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m a damned doctor! I know how much blood is enou – enough to be deadly!

_I understand that Ms. Griffin. But right now I need you to breathe. Panicking will not make the situation easier to handle._

Oh god, oh god – Wait! My husband is calling me – I – I have to take this. I have to tell him. He’s an FBI agent. He – he’ll know what to do.

_But Ma’am –_

Call ended

+++

_Present Day…_

“Bellamy Blake. I guess you finally decided to show up to class?”

Clarke’s head jerked up at the sound of her calculus teacher’s voice. Only fifteen minutes into class and they had already been assigned a twenty question in-class assignment ( _Fucking logarithms_ Clarke had thought.) Not a moment had passed within those fifteen minutes where she thought of the possibility of having Bellamy in her class – yet, there he was. Standing in the doorway, an uninterested expression on his face.

 “Oh, you know me Ms. K. Always one for learning.” He sauntered in, hair and clothes obviously disheveled, hands stuffed into his pockets. He had obviously been somewhere fooling around. And it was ridiculous that it somehow made it more attractive.

Clarke fought the urge to feign a retching sound.

“Do you have a hall pass Bellamy?” replied Ms. Kent unenthusiastically.

“Well you see, I did, but-“

“Save it Mr. Blake. I’ll be speaking to you after class. Other than that, find a seat. Now.”

Clarke froze, very aware of the fact that the class was completely full and that the only seat available was the one directly behind her.

_You’ve gotta be kidding me._

Her classmates seemed to be holding their breath as he scanned the room for a place to sit. When he noticed her, and the vacant seat next to her, a lazy grin slowly spread across his face. A mischievous twinkle seemed to appear in his dark gaze.

Clarke decidedly looked back down at her work. There was less than an hour left in the school day, then she could quietly slip home unnoticed. All she had to do was ignore him for the rest of the time. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard…

As she saw the shadow of him pass her, she ignored the whispers. These kids honestly had nothing better to do in their lives than gossip about a new girl and some random jackass? It was such a cliché. She absolutely hated it.

A few minutes passed without him making a snide comment and the tension had seemed to dissipate. Though she could still feel his gaze on the bag of her neck like a palpable touch, she did nothing to provide even an inkling of an idea that she in any way cared about his presence.

It had gone well for a few – she had even forgotten he was there she was so wrapped up in her work – but by the time there was about ten minutes left in the class, he apparently decided he would make his move. Because Clarke suddenly felt the body heat of another person and the light tickle of his breath on the back of her neck.

“You’re doing a good job ignoring me New Girl,” he said, the wisps of loosened hair from her ponytail stirring when he spoke.

She fought the urge to elbow him in his nose, “Excuse me, personal space much?” She didn’t turn to meet his face with her own, she only continued the problem in front of her.

“Well, you’ve been so quiet I was thinking you might possibly not have even noticed I was here in the first place…” There was a smirk in his voice. That same _goddamned_ smirk.

“No. I just don’t care much about you. A feat you apparently don’t reciprocate when it comes to me,” she deadpanned back.

She heard him clear his throat and released a breath when he finally moved back a few inches.

“What can I say, you interest me.”

She most definitely, 100%, did not want that to be the case. Turning around in her chair, she glared at him. But instead of finding the same mocking smirk etched into his features, she found him looking at her curiously. It honestly put her on edge a little. Their classmates all seemed to be examining them nosily, holding on to every word they exchanged with one another.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, “Stop talking, I’m trying to do my work.”

He released a low, mocking, whistle and raised an eyebrow at her, “You’re still working on that? I finished it in minutes. You sure you’re cut out for AP?”

Her hand tightened around her pencil as she clenched her jaw. He had to be lying, nobody was that good at logarithms. Not even AP students. But looking down she found that he wasn’t.  His paper was filled front and back, his messy but legible writing scrawled across it.

She opened her mouth to fire a retort back, but Ms. Kent cut her off, her eyes gazing at her from atop the rim of her wiry glasses.

“Ms. Griffin, surely you are not distracting your fellow classmates. I would hate to write you up on your first day at AHS.”

Clarke clamped her mouth shut, sitting up straight. Bellamy’s mouth began to spread into a satisfied smile and he shot her a mocking wink. The asshole, he had purposely tried to get a rise out of her just to get her in trouble. She scowled at him and turned around in her seat to face her teacher.

“No ma’am, there won’t be any need. I was just turning back around to finish my work,” she said through her teeth. Her teacher nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and turned back to her computer.

Clarke loosed an angry breath and began to work again. But she let her mind wonder a bit…  It was only her first day here – her first _goddamned_ day – and this infuriating boy had somehow been able to weasel his way under her skin effortlessly. Not to mention that apparently now she had to deal with him for an hour out of every school day for an entire semester. Just her luck.

Nothing would ever go right for her, would it? She moved 1000+ miles away from her home town in order to escape the stifling atmosphere created by her past, just to land herself into a school where she was practically harassed.

Perhaps she was being a bit ungrateful, she did meet three pretty cool people after all… but she couldn’t help to internally pout. She just hoped that whatever fixation Bellamy had with being a thorn in her side would go away eventually.

A few minutes passed and she finished up her math problems. As if on cue, the end of the school bell rung. She stood to gather her things, Ms. Kent’s voice chiming her goodbye to her classmates in the background.

Clarke was so glad that this endless day was finally over. She could drive home and escape to her room. Maybe even grab take out and watch a movie with her grandmother…

As she rounded the doorway to exit into the corridor, she felt an arm catch at her elbow. It took all the strength in her not to whirl around and punch the person, whom she surely knew it was, in the face. Instead, she turned slowly and was – get this! – face to face with none other than the assface himself.

“You really have a problem with grabbing girls, don’t you,” she snapped at him, meeting him with a steely gaze.

He showed no reaction to her sharp tone, “Well I wouldn’t have to grab you to get your attention if you would just tell me your name.”

She fought the urge to role her eyes at him, “What do you want Bellamy.” She wasn’t sure why, but it felt weird to say his name out loud to him. And the expression that flickered across his face for barely half a second seemed to imply he felt similarly.

His mouth tightened as if he was trying to decide something, and then, shoving something into her arms he said, “Trust me, I wouldn’t be talking to you if it weren’t necessary. This fell out of your bag.”

Clarke looked down to find the battered cover of her beloved sketchbook. She snatched it against her chest and looked up at him, “I uh… Thanks.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He replied, stonily. And then he pushed his way around her and out into the corridor.

She watched as his dark figure disappeared around a corner. Bellamy Blake was something else… Clarke was sure of that. Only one day knowing him and all of their interactions left her puzzled. He was unequivocally an ass, but he didn’t seem to quite know what to make of her - just as much as she didn’t know what to make of him.  From what Raven and Jasper had briefly told her, Clarke knew that he was pretty cold. Never really talking to anybody outside of his group of friends. Only ever talking to girls for sake of exploiting them for his own desires… the whole twisted lot. Yet he didn’t seem to know whether to settle with completely going the stone-faced “don’t fuck with me” route, or to mess with her mercilessly.

She decided to settle on believing the only reason for his curiosity toward her was that he wasn’t used to being approached to by head-strong girls. Given her circumstance, it was probably best left unpondered.

She was jostled suddenly by a student brushing past her and she realized she had been staring awkwardly down the hallway at nothing. She shoved her sketchbook into her bag and began to make her way toward the exit, eager to make her escape.

As she drove back to her grandmother’s house in the old unused car she was being designated to drive during her stay, she realized she did it. Despite whatever interactions took place with Bellamy, she had gotten through the day alright… Even met a few people that she would gladly call friends.

Clarke Griffin survived her first day at Ark High School. Now, she just needed to accept it as home. To get into the routine of things. To finish and graduate. Now all there really was left to do was… live.

And then maybe she really could move on with her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been a week since I posted the first chapter?? idk but here's another one! You get to learn alot more about Grandma and her relationship with both Clarke and Abby. Enjoy!

_Three years earlier…_

Clarke Griffin lay on her bed, paper in front of her and colored pencils sprawled among her sheets. The Autumn sun streamed through her blinds and fell in rivulets through the hair that hung down in her face like a curtain. She studied the half-filled page before her as she sighed. She simply could not think of what to do next. She had started the work on a whim, not really knowing what was going to happen when she pulled out her art supplies in the first place. She had only hoped that whatever she created would distract her from the raging argument going on downstairs.

Rising from her stomach she crossed to her door and cracked it open, listening wearily for the voices of her parents. They had been at it all morning, whispering harshly under their breath as if Clarke was unable to hear them somehow. But she knew what was going on – she was fourteen after all. Not a child. 

They had been bickering more frequently. Always something different. And honestly, Clarke blamed her mother for being so knit-picky. There was always something that she complained about: How late her father was coming in from the office sometimes. That she had no help to clean and cook and still be able to work at the hospital. And her favorite one was always about Clarke. About how Jake should stop encouraging her to go down a path that would “surely lead nowhere”.

It made Clarke upset, but she pretended as if she didn’t hear it. After all, at least she still had her family together in the first place, right? She was lucky, really. To live in such a beautiful house. To be in such a good town. To have such wonderfully successful parents.

Except Clarke couldn’t help but feel bad for herself. Because she had been seeing a lot less of her parents lately. They were always gone at work: Abby at the hospital all day and Jake working late into the night on whatever case he had that week. Clarke was busy too though, always studying for the Academic Decathlons she participated in, or working on her honors homework.

But even on the days when they were finally all together – like that day – things didn’t go right.

It was the beginning of November and Grandma Rose was traveling all the way from Abby’s hometown Ark, Oregon to visit for an impromptu weekend visit. Clarke’s mother was nearly losing her mind because of it.

That’s what her parents had been arguing about all day. Grandma Rose was to be picked up at five o’ clock from the airport that evening. And somehow had thought it a good idea to refrain from telling anyone until the day before.

From experiencing the hushed rants from her mother, Clarke knew all too well how much Grandma Rose got under her skin. From what she knew, they were entirely different people. One particular characteristic that set them apart was Grandma Rose’s tendency to be incredibly impulsive and inorganized – which Clarke’s mother certainly was not. She knew that her grandmother was a “live by the seat of your pants”, “follow your dreams” type of person. Where as her mother was the organized and analytical type. The one that knew exactly how she wanted everything to be. This knowledge had led Clarke to believe that this very reason was exactly why her mother had moved all the way across the country when she left for college.

In other words, Abby Griffin and her mother had a rather difficult relationship.

An aspect in which Clarke had truly learned to loath. Though she had rarely gotten to see her grandmother, she enjoyed her company. Grandma Rose was a free-spirited woman: The kind that wore flamboyant dresses and gaudy beaded necklaces. The kind that traveled all over the place and always made sure to bring Clarke the foreign sweets she had found from whatever country she went to. The kind that absolutely fawned over any piece of art that Clarke showed her and made sure to frame it and hang it up in her house.

Clarke often found it ironic that her mother was even blood related to Grandma Rose at all. And that she had fled her home town only to marry a man that was honestly quite similar to the woman she seemed to disagree so much with. Sometimes Clarke even wondered if her mom just married her dad because of the wealth that he had been born into – Grandma Rose raising her as a single mother and with only the wage of an elementary school teacher had left her to have a rather difficult upbringing. And then Clarke would remember the genuine love she would see exchanged between her parents and felt guilty for even giving life to the idea.

But it had still made her wonder.

Perhaps her parents had had the blessing to actually have one of those fairytale love stories that Clarke had often spent her evenings reading. But then again, they wouldn’t argue as much as they had been…

Clarke quietly left her bedroom and snuck herself to the top of the stairs, hoping to catch a bit of their conversation down below. Sure enough, their hushed voices could be heard.

“-she’s just not a good influence on Clarke,” Abby was saying. Clarke leaned in eagerly to hear more.

“Abby, Rose is a perfectly sensible woman. What bad influence would she even be? She raised you perfectly well, didn’t she?” came her father’s exasperated reply. He was always the one that seemed to defend her grandmother.

“And I had to fight tooth and nail to get to where I am now, Jake! There’s a reason we don’t see her often. She’s unorganized and irrational. And she just has the audacity to spring a last-minute visit on us. Clarke needs to be surrounded by independent and intelligent people.”

“Your mother is both of those things Abigail. You just refuse to see it because you have different views than she does. You’re the one being irrational.”

Abby harrumphed, “Yes, we have different views on what sensibility is. Clarke is intelligent enough to have a very successful future, and all my mom does is fill her head with delirious dreams about making it big in the art industry. Do you know how difficult it is to actually find work in that area? And how little money is made for a majority of that time?”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat and she felt tears spring to her eyes. They were arguing about her again, she should have known.

“You can’t deter our daughter from following a dream! At least Rose has faith in her. Clarke is intelligent, yes, but she is also incredibly talented. What support have you ever shown towards her art?”

“You know I can’t validate her for something I know will more than likely end in failure Jake. She needs a cushiony job, one where she is guaranteed to make good money. I can’t expect you to understand. You grew up in money, you don’t know what it’s like to not know when the next meal will be. _That’s_ what my mother did to me. Because she had the lousy dream of just simply being a teacher. Clarke deserves better.”

“Don’t you dare –“ Her parents voices grew in volume, but Clarke couldn’t take any more of it. Tears were fully streaming down her face as she walked herself back to her room and locked the door. Turning, she leaned against it and slid down, bringing her knees to her chest and cradling them with her arms.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe her work would get her nowhere. Maybe she’d never be good enough. She had always expected it – the fact that her mother hated her work. But hearing it then… hearing it actually come out of her mother’s mouth… it killed her. More than she thought it possibly could.

+++

_Present day…_

It was nearing the end of October – meaning she had been in Ark for a few weeks already – when she decided that she should probably get a job.

Grandma Rose was a sufficient old lady - mostly secure in her retirement funds – but Clarke knew that it was really only enough to support herself. And she also knew that Grandma Rose was also a bit too prideful to ask for help. So she took it upon herself to begin looking for work.

When she told Rose this fact, the old woman only smiled and said, “Whatever makes you feel useful, dear.” So it was decided. And the search began.

It wasn’t the easiest for the first week or so… With the town being such a small one, most places were already over-staffed. But eventually Jasper was able to hook her up with an interview at a small coffee shop called The Creamery. Of which he only had a connection to because his girlfriend Maya’s family owned it. But it was nice enough. A dainty hole-in-the-wall place that was brightly decorated with multi-colored walls and mismatched furniture. It was located in the “down town” area of Ark. Basically a part of the town where there was a series of connected buildings all circled around the town hall. It was a cute little area with the occasional oak tree and bench.

She got the job easily, which both her grandmother and friends were rather happy about. It had actually become a sort of hang out place for them beforehand. Which was why she had been able to pass the interview with ease. The manager saw them there so often.

 Rose was just happy because she thought the place had personality. And if Grandma Rose supported anything, it was personality. The discounted coffee was just a plus.

Life in Ark seemed to be going pretty good. Clarke got along well with Rose, as she always had. They often had long chats at the end of the night. Or braided each other’s hair. She was a feisty old woman, and a blessing to have. Clarke was glad that her therapist had decided that a leave of absence from Virginia would be a good idea. Even when she woke fitful in the night from the nightmares she often got, Rose seemed to be right there. Giving her warm milk and cooing her back to sleep as if Clarke were still only nine years old. It was a feat that Clarke was very grateful for, being used to calming herself down after waking in a cold sweat. It was a shame that Clarke had never really spent too much time with her grandmother before.

School had been quiet mostly. She skated through the last few weeks with a decent amount of ease. After the crazy drama of the first day had died down a bit, less attention swarmed Clarke. But of course, the seats that had been claimed on her first day of calculus seemed to stick and she had been stuck with Bellamy behind her. They occasionally broke out into small fights, but nothing too big to draw attention. Clarke was convinced that he was just a moody, infuriating, jerk that had a stick up his ass. But there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she tried to avoid him as much as possible.

She had learned that his two people entourage went by the names Miller and Murphy, though she wasn’t quite sure which was which considering that she had exactly zero classes with them and only ever saw them roaming the hallways with Bellamy. And Raven had been right, the boy was intense when it came to his sister. She didn’t see her much since she was a grade below her, but when she did, Bellamy was always by her side. Prepared to glare daggers at any guy that decided to look her way.

Always at Bellamy’s side was Roma – a pretty brunette senior who walked around like she ran the school. Bellamy never really seemed to pay much attention to her, though it was obvious that she was majorly crushing on him. And that they were sleeping together. She had been the girl that she saw sitting on his lap during her first day there.

But don’t ask Clarke why she knew all this stuff. It had just been a mix of curiosity and the always gossiping Raven Reyes. Whom of which Clarke had grown incredibly grateful for. 

She had grown grateful for all three of the friends she made, in fact. Though she had not out right told them all that had happened to her and why she moved to Ark, they seemed understanding and accepting. All they really knew was that she was from Virginia and that she moved to Ark after her father died. Instead of questioning her when she got lost inside her own head, or when she would have to excuse herself from a place due to her growing anxiety, they just comforted her. She knew they were curious but they still respected boundaries and that’s what mattered to Clarke.

When the day came for her to start her first day at The Creamery, she was just a bit nervous. Really the only experience she had with working was volunteering to run concession stands for games at her old school. No matter what excuse she came up with, her mother always turned down her requests to try to get a job. She had said she wanted her to focus on her school work.

Eight AM Saturday morning Clarke pulled into the parking lot off to the side of the town’s square where the coffee shop was located. The bell on the door chimed as she opened it, already dressed in her lavender colored apron. The uniforms were quite casual for The Creamery. Clarke was allowed to wear her normal clothes (jeans, a graphic tee, and her converse were what she most often sported) and was only required to wear the provided apron. Something about it relaxed her.

“Oh, good morning Clarke! Welcome to your first day,” chirped Maya’s mom, Alyssa.

“Good morning,” Clarke replied, awkwardly shifting her weight, “Uh, anywhere in particular I should set my stuff before clocking in?”

Alyssa gave a breathy laugh, “Don’t be shy honey, you’re going to do great here. I know it.” She smiled at her, “Just set your things behind the counter and I’ll get you acquainted. We open at nine, so we have a bit.”

Hesitantly, Clarke made her way around the cash register and put her bag away.  Then she hastily followed Alyssa into the back doorway leading into the kitchen.

As the hours ticked by, Clarke felt herself relax more and more. She easily learned the ins and outs of running the coffee shop. Everything was pretty basic… restocking the bakery case when it became empty, baking the cookies and glazing the pastries… She became quite acquainted with the espresso machine once customers started piling in. It was a bit tough for her at first, having to get the hang of multitasking. She had to be able to greet customers and make coffee and answer phone calls all at the same time.

But if Clarke was anything, she was diligent. With the help of Alyssa’s coaching (and the added benefit of having free coffee), she was able to get the hang of it. Alyssa had even pointed out how well she was doing compared to any other new employee she had hired before. It may have seemed a bit trivial, but Clarke was proud of herself.

Time was nearing the end of Clarke’s shift when it happened.  She was wiping down tables after things had finally calmed down when the bell at the door rang, signifying the arrival of a new customer. Not thinking much of it, she raised her head to greet the newcomer exactly as Alyssa had told her to do. But when she looked up the towel dropped from her hand.

The first thought that occurred to her was that the man looked oddly familiar. He was short and stocky with neatly slicked brown hair and had a friendly demeanor. She didn’t see his face because his back was to her already, but it was enough. She – she knew him.

She felt her vision begin to tunnel as her hands gripped the table in an attempt to ground herself. _How did he find her here? He was in jail – he was locked away for the rest of his life. Why now? How did he get here?_

_She had to get out of there._

The blood rushed in her ears. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were banging its way out of her ribcage. Her mouth dried as she began to find it harder and harder to breathe – as if there was a solid brick laying on her chest making it impossible to suck any air in. Oh god, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe and her head was spinning and the room seemed to be moving even though she was pretty sure it wasn’t her doing.

She had to get out _. She had to get out._

Her feet began to move before she even had the chance to make the decision. Unable to see clearly, she booked it out the door and into the street, taking off in no particular direction. She didn’t care, she just had to get away. She knew was trapped - she didn’t trust herself to drive because she was in no state to be behind the wheel. But she had to get away, she had to get away, she _had to get away._

Rounding a corner into what must have been an alleyway, she collapsed against the brick wall and squeezed her hands tightly into fists. She sunk down and sat, shaking profusely as she struggled to gain competency of what was going on around her. She lifted a shaking hand to wipe her face only to find It wet.

She was crying, she realized. How stupid of her to think that she could ever escape. Ever be able to not relive the hell that she had been through. Ever believe that it was over. Because it wasn’t.

_It was never going to be over._

The tears came harder now, as if the floodgates had opened and there was nothing to stop from the torrential downpour. Clarke placed her head in her hands and began to rock slightly. Her stomach was turning and she felt as if she was going to vomit. The pressure on her chest gained intensity.

Suddenly she felt a presence next to her and jerked her head to find a vaguely familiar face. It was a girl with straight brown hair. Her face expressed concern, eyebrows drawn together. She said something that Clarke couldn’t hear. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything but a loud ringing in her ears. She pressed her hands to her them and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block it out.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and yanked to the side a bit. Opening her eyes, she found a water bottle being held out in front of her. Shakily, she reached out and accepted it, taking a few sips and attempting to slow her breathing.

The two of them sat there for a moment, the stranger calmly saying stuff that Clarke couldn’t quite make out and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

_In. Out._

After what felt like an eternity, her hearing became intact again and she could make out the soft voice of the girl sitting next to her. The tears seemed to dry on her face as she gradually became aware of her surroundings.

“There you go. Keep breathing slowly,” she was saying, “Here, have some of this.” She lifted her hand and offered her a piece of chocolate. “It’s the only thing I have, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said gruffly, and popped it into her mouth. She could feel the pressure releasing a bit, her breathing beginning to slow. It was then that she recognized who exactly this girl was. She had seen her often enough in the halls of her school to recognize the petite figure, long dark hair, and luminous green eyes. She was looking into the worried face of Octavia Blake.

Clarke wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

“Don’t mention it. You uh… You were having a panic attack,” the brunette replied hesitantly.

Rationally, she knew that was what had happened. Clarke had experienced a few before, shortly after the incident. But it had been months since her last one and she was devastated that it happened again. On her first day at a new job nonetheless.

_Oh God._

She abruptly attempted to stand, already thinking of the million apologies she would have to say to Alyssa. She was going to be fired for sure. Running out on the first day of the job was definitely not good. She reached into her pocket for her phone only to come up with nothing. _Shit._ Of course, it was still in the shop. She wouldn’t have had it on her while she was working.

Octavia immediately pulled her back down, “You can’t leave yet. You have to let your body process for a bit. You need to let yourself relax. Here, drink more water.”

She attempted to tug away, “You don’t understand, I left my job. I have to go back and explain –“

Octavia thrust the bottle in front of her, “Drink.”

Grudgingly, Clarke sat back and accepted the water. She took a few gulps and looked at the girl next to her pointedly. That girl really was stubborn. Go figure.

“I get them too,” Octavia admitted, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. Clarke tried to hide her surprise but figured she failed when she saw Octavia release a small laugh.

“I know. Nobody really knows that about me. But I thought the same thing when I saw you tear down the street like a bat out of hell. You’re the one who dug her way under my brother’s skin right? Clarke?”

Clarke coughed, “Uh, yeah.”

A snort, “Don’t worry. He probably deserved it. My brother can be a real ass when he wants to.”

A few more moments passed and Clarke began to feel more normal again. She sat back, resting her head against the wall.

Suddenly she felt compelled to say, “That hasn’t happened to me in a while.”

Octavia shifted next to her, “Me neither,” she said quietly.

Clarke was grateful that she didn’t inquire any further. There was hardly a way she would be able to explain her sudden anxiety without bringing up her past. The man that she saw – well, it was most likely that it wasn’t actually the person she thought it was. She knew that now in hindsight, but the ever-looming possibility that he might return always haunted Clarke’s thoughts.

“Thank you,” Clarke said, turning her head to peer over at the younger girl beside her.

Octavia’s mouth lifted in a sad smile, “It’s what I would’ve wanted somebody to do for me.” She handed Clarke the rest of her chocolate bar and stood up, offering a hand, “Let’s get you back to work so that we can explain what happened.”

She said “we” so nonchalantly, so finally, that it brought a smile to Clarke’s face. She could tell from that moment that Octavia was a loyal person and that she most likely would wreak havoc on Alyssa if she didn’t allow Clarke a second chance. Clarke accepted the hand, standing to follow Octavia out of the alleyway and back onto the street.

They walked quietly back to The Creamery, Octavia occasionally demanding Clarke continue to eat the candy bar she had given her. Clarke decided that even though her older brother was an ass, she liked Octavia Blake. She didn’t know her much, but she had a fiery and determined spirit. Clarke appreciated seeing that in people.

Before they walked in through the doors, Octavia placed a hand on her arm stopping her. She handed her a small black iPhone, maybe a version or two out of date, and said, “Gimme your number really quick. So that I can check up on you later.”

Figuring there was no point in arguing, Clarke complied.  And then they entered the store together.

Later that night when Clarke was lying in bed reading a book, her phone dinged. Opening it up, she found that it was from an unknown number.

_Hey it’s Octavia. I’m glad it was able to be worked out at your job._

And then:

_But I have a proposition for you._

Clarke frowned at her screen. She typed back.

_Shoot._

_Next weekend there will be a Halloween party at the old abandoned farm a few minutes away from town. You should come.  
Crowds are what tend to trigger my attacks. We can be each other’s support._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Maya's mother already have a canon name?? Couldn't find it so I just came up with my own. And I hope I wrote Clarke's panic attack okay... Either way, be sure to leave your opinions in the comments! You guys are what keeps me posting chapters!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by unpopular demand!
> 
> Also, two things to not talk to me about: Infinity War and Becho.

“Well I think that you should go,” said Raven Reyes the following Monday at school.

Clarke and her three friends were sitting at their usual lunch table discussing the very distressing topic of whether or not she should attend the party that she was invited to. She had not told them the bit about her panic attack – she didn’t want to worry them (or have to explain why for that matter) – but they knew a brief story of how she ran into Octavia at work the past Saturday.

“But _guys,_ ” Clarke protested, “I’m new. It would be so awkward. And not to mention the fact that with Octavia being there, Bellamy will sure to follow.”

“We could go with you,” Raven replied, “And girl, you gotta stop being so concerned with whatever Bellamy is doing. He exists and you unfortunately have to deal with him in math but that’s it. Grow some _huevos_ and move on with your life. Live a little!”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her, “I’m not _scared_ of Bellamy I just –“

“Want to avoid him at all costs and literally duck out of hallways when you see him heading your direction?” Jasper said with a smug smile on his face. Clarke threw a half-hearted punch at his arm.

“Clarke, it’s really no big deal. The three of us could go with you, it’s an open invitation. The parties at the abandoned farm always are. We can have a good night,” supplied Monty, giving her a sympathetic look.

Jasper waggled his eyebrows, “And I just got a fresh stock of Mary Jane, so it’ll be twice as fun.”

“C’mon Clarke, pleeaasse? We need to have a fun night out. Plus, we haven’t been shopping together yet! We can go pick out costumes. It’s been so damn long since I’ve had a shopping trip with a girl…” Raven stuck her bottom lip out, which looked incredibly out of place on her usually sharp face.

Clarke looked around at the three of her friends and allowed herself to ponder on the possibility. She supposed that she could use some time outside of the house. Almost three whole weeks in Ark and all she had done was sit at home and occasionally meet her friends for coffee at The Creamery. She loved Grandma Rose, but there was only so much monopoly that she could play. Maybe getting dressed up and having fun would allow for her to relax a bit – even get her more accustomed to Ark and her fellow classmates. Plus, there was always the added fact that Octavia had invited her out of a favor…

She gave in, “Fine! Fine, I’ll go.”

Her friends all cheered enthusiastically, Monty and Jasper did their weird high-five bit where they really just smacked their own hands instead of each other’s.

Clarke smiled at them and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was time for her to accommodate for the proper life she had lived back in Virginia. After all, that hadn’t necessarily kept her completely out of trouble anyway, did it?

She lifted her phone and texted Octavia to let her know her decision.

+++

When AP Calculus came around at the end of the day, Clarke noticed that Bellamy wasn’t there to be his normal annoyingly stoic and argumentative self. It was a bit abnormal for that to be the case. Even though he often showed up tardy to the class, there was never a day that he completely missed. If there was even one good thing that Clarke had noticed about him, it was his devotion to his school work.

She tried not to think much of it and attempted to just focus on her study guide (yes, unfortunately there was already an exam coming up that week). She knew that she had only known him for a short while and that for all she knew he would skip class occasionally, but something about it just didn’t sit too well with her.

 _Focus_ , Clarke chastised herself. He was gone and that was the end of it. There was no reason for her to be so concerned anyway. He was out of her hair for once and she could actually get work done.

She ignored the small part of her that seemed a bit deflated at the fact that there was no one to challenge her.

After a while, Bellamy’s absence slipped from her mind as she continued to work. The first few were fairly simple but when she came across a few that she needed to use logs on, she realized she was missing something.

Shuffling through her bag, Clarke cursed under her breath. She had forgotten her graphing calculator in her car.

After supplying Mrs. Kent with the bathroom excuse, she made her way through the hallway quickly. She figured that she would be able to slip out into the student parking lot and back in before getting noticed so she didn’t really bother to have to explain the whole thing to her teacher.

After successfully grabbing her calculator, she was making her way back toward the building when something caught her eye. Across the parking lot she could see three figures talking to each other enthusiastically on the far side of the building. One was pacing, running his hand through his hair in a way that gave away his stress, while the other two seemed to be trying to calm him down. Backpacks laid slouched against the brick wall, signifying that they were indeed students.

As if having a mind of their own, Clarke’s feet began to move in the boys’ direction. As she neared them she realized she recognized who they were. The muscular and athletic build of one, the slinky lean build of another, and then the scrawny impish build of the last - It was Bellamy and his two goons, Murphy and Miller. But what the hell were they doing outside? And why did Bellamy seem so stressed out?

To keep from being discovered, Clarke ducked behind a jeep and peered around the corner. She was closer now, but still too far away to be able to make out what was being said. Instead she watched, ignoring the guilty feeling of her nosing into somebody else’s business.

Bellamy continued to pace, rubbing his hand down his face aggravatedly. The tall, leaner boy of his two friends (she still wasn’t entirely sure if he was Miller or Murphy, but she was leaning a bit toward him being the first) reached his arm out and grabbed Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy seemed to relax at his touch and he faced him, face shown with barely contained anger. The smaller pale boy (Murphy?) stood a bit of a distance away, watching a spot around the corner of the school building. His mouth moved, obviously saying something to the two of his friends as he lifted his arm to point in the direction he was looking. Bellamy snapped his head in the direction and his entire body tensed up again, fists coiling at his sides.

What the hell was going on?

Before she knew it the three figures disappeared around the corner. Clarke swallowed thickly, determining whether or not she should follow them. Was she really so interested that she was willing to risk getting in trouble? Her shoulder bag was still in the classroom along with her study guide that awaited being finished. As much as she really didn’t want to get back to solving calculus problems, she equally didn’t want to –

A shout sounded from the direction the boys disappeared into. Before she could convince herself of how bad a decision it was, she strode across the parking lot to follow them. When she arrived at the corner they were standing moments before, she saw the three boys move into an almost secluded alleyway that was created by a rift between the school building and the separated gymnasium.

Shit, she had to get closer.

Quickly, Clarke headed in their direction. She stopped abruptly, back against the wall, when she was close enough to hear them speaking. She sucked in a breath when she noticed that there weren’t only three, but four angry male voices coming from the alley. Her curiosity grew.

Near the entrance of the alley, Clarke noticed a small power box. Close enough to see what was going on and hidden enough not to be noticed spying.

_Perfect._

 Slowly, she sunk to her knees and scoot towards it - the entire time being careful not to make any noise. It would be utterly mortifying to be caught spying on them, surely Bellamy would never let her live it down. But there was obviously something bad going on, and Clarke was too curious not to attempt to figure out what it was.

Peering through the crack between the wall and power box, she saw them. The three of the boys were accompanied by a rather bulky man dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt, his arms covered in miscellaneous tattoos and his hair closely shaven. He stood assertively with his arms crossed, eyeing the boys with a challenge in his expression.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she heard Bellamy’s deep voice growl. He was standing rigidly, every muscle in his body coiled as if ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Murphy and Miller stood silently behind him, the threat made obvious in their dark eyes.

The man’s voice rumbled blithely, “You know what I’m here for, Blake.”

Bellamy’s jaw clenched, “Let’s pretend for a moment that I actually have what it is you think I do… Why in the ever-living _fuck_ would you come to my school to confront me about it? Afraid I’ll beat your ass again if we met alone?” Clarke’s eyes widened at the statement. Who the hell was this guy?

Bellamy succeeded in getting a rise out of the man, his nostril’s flared as he took a step forward, “Watch it,” he warned, “I don’t have to answer to you. Just give me what is mine and I’ll be on my way.”

Bellamy barked out a laugh, “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t have your money.”

The man sneered, “Liar,” he said, “Nobody else at The Arena had access to my bag.”

 _The Arena?_ Clarke shifted in her spot and wondered what the hell Bellamy was a part of. Given the size and the pure brute look of the man, it had to be something that wasn’t legal.

“We can discuss this somewhere else. Not at my school. And not in a place that my sister is.” Bellamy said, impatience seeping into his voice.

“Ah yes, that little whore sister of yours. The one you’re always so protective of.  What’s her name again? Octa-“ The man’s statement was cut short as Clarke witnessed Bellamy shove him back against the wall, hand fisted in his shirt. Though the interaction had taken a sharp turn, Miller and Murphy still stood rigidly in the shadows, observing quietly. Their faces seemed to give away the fact that this was not an act out of the ordinary for their friend.

 Clarke balked as she realized more anger coiled off of Bellamy than she had ever seen before. His face was mere inches from the stranger’s, lip curled in a sneer. The fisted hand tightened, “Don’t you dare say her name.” His voice came as a low rumble. A warning, Clarke realized.

The man’s nostrils flared slightly and a tsking noise escaped his mouth, “Go on Bellamy, hit me.”

Bellamy’s eyes seemed to gleam at the idea, a twinkle of indecision. But a cough sounded from his friends, “Bellamy… Think of Jax,” Miller warned.

An unreadable expression crossed Bellamy’s face momentarily and then he dropped his hand, shoving the man in the direction of the exit, “Leave,” he said, and he turned toward his friends, convening something with them that Clarke wasn’t able to make out.

She watched as the man stood up straight, a furious expression fixed onto his face. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, “Family always was your biggest weakness, Blake.” Clarke’s eyes widened as she saw the flash of silver held in his hand. The man took a step forward, raising it formidably.

Before she could stop herself, she rose from her hiding spot, “Bellamy, Look out!” she called. The three boys’ gazes swiveled over to her, confused looks briefly crossing their faces. And then, upon realizing her warning, Bellamy turned toward the man and noticed the knife in his hand.

Almost frantically, the man lunged forward in an attempt to strike Bellamy, but he was too quick. Grabbing either side of the man’s arm, he slammed it against the brick wall. The man yelped as Clarke heard a sharp crack, and the knife clattered to the pavement. Bellamy kicked it away in the direction of his friends. He then took a step back, allowing the larger man to cradle his hand

Bellamy gave a low, mocking laugh, “You coward. Bringing a knife to a fist fight.” Then he lunged and punched him directly in the face. Clarke’s mouth opened slightly as she watched the man keel over and cup his now bleeding nose. The stranger then took off past her, apparently deciding he had lost the fight. He disappeared onto a motorcycle and took off. _Holy shit._

Clarke let out a shaky breath and walked toward the boys, “Holy shit, who was that guy?”

Shaking his hand out, Bellamy’s gaze traveled back to her, eyes alight with fury, “What the fuck were you doing hiding over there?” he demanded. Murphy and Miller looked at her with identical amused expressions.

Her jaw clenched, “Uh, you’re welcome.”

He ignored her, “Why were you following us?”

Clarke crossed her arms in front of her, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was in the parking lot getting something from my car when I saw you guys. And it’s a good thing I did because I just saved you a trip to the damn hospital,” she snapped, not in the mood to deal with his overbearing ego.

He exchanged a haughty glance with his friends who just shrugged at him in return. Looking back at Clarke, he sighed and rubbed a hand down his face seeming almost exasperated. Clarke rose her eyebrows, challenging him silently to argue with her. Maybe she shouldn’t have been spying on them, but he sure as hell couldn’t refute the fact that he would be in a lot less comfortable of a situation had she not intervened.  

Bellamy, noticing that she was surely going to argue with him, looked to his friends. They must have had freaking telepathy or some shit because the next thing Clarke knew, they nodded and head off in the direction of the parking lot. Murphy shot her a wink as he passed, and Miller offered a half smile.

Clarke shifted her body weight and cocked her head at Bellamy. She couldn’t help but get the feeling that she was about to be interrogated. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to allow it to scare her.

When he took a step toward her, she subconsciously took one back. Maybe it was a reaction she gained from her past experience, but once she noticed she did it she corrected herself and stood defiantly. Call her stupid, but somehow she just knew that Bellamy was no actual threat against her. That, and she simply didn’t want him to think that she was intimidated by him. Or that she was weak.

If he noticed, he showed no reaction. Just strode up to her and looked her directly in the eye, his jaw ticking.

“You can’t tell anyone what you saw,” he stated simply, scanning her face with his eyes. She felt a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze, but she didn’t let it show.

“And why the hell not? Maybe I have grounds for calling the police. If not on you than on that man… He was going to stab you after all…”

His jaw tightened, “You won’t do it.” But he didn’t seem so certain.

Clarke thought of Octavia then… How she so willingly helped her through her panic attack, how she stood with her and wouldn’t take no for an answer as they asked for Alyssa’s understanding. And then how much she must love this boy standing before her. The one who most definitely would lay his life down for hers without a second guess. He proved as much with how fiercely he just defended her… Maybe she didn’t like Bellamy, but she had to admit that he seemed trustworthy. She must have been crazy given how little interactions they’d actually had, but she couldn’t help but feel it was true.

Clarke sighed, “Fine, you’re right. I won’t. But you have to tell me who that was…”

Bellamy began to walk past her, apparently expecting her to follow, as he told her, “Somebody from… work. He thinks I took something of his. He’s wrong.”

She scurried after him, “That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna tell me?”

He threw her a side look, “Considering you weren’t even supposed to be watching us, that’s all you need to know.” And then he decidedly shut his mouth and didn’t open it again the rest of the way back to the school entrance.

When they got to it and he turned to leave back toward the parking lot, she was confused.

“Uh, aren’t you going to go back to class?”

“You really think that Mrs. Kent won’t be suspicious when she notices you were gone longer than you probably should have been, and then return with me?” A small smirk played on his lips and Clarke’s eyes widened a bit at the realization of what he was insinuating. She refused to believe it when her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.

“Oh, uh, right,” she fumbled over her words, “But then why did you walk all the way over here?”

His cocky smile faded, but he recovered with a swift, mocking bow, “Every princess needs an escort, don’t they?”

“Oh my god,” she realized aloud, “You stayed with me in case that guy came back.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. And then winking, he turned and left her standing there watching after him wondering what the hell she had just witnessed.

When she arrived back at class, the only reaction Mrs. Kent had to the length of her absence was the usual harrumph and “Don’t let it happen again.”

+++

That evening when she asked her grandmother if it was okay for her to attend the Halloween party that was being thrown on Saturday, the only reaction Rose had was to chitter excitedly.

“I remember when I was young and could attend Halloween parties, oh the trouble I used to get into…” She was looking off into the distance almost dreamily.

Clarke laughed awkwardly, “Grandma…”

As if realizing her audience, she back tracked, “Of course, honey, you have a lot better head on your shoulders than I did at your age.”

“Grandma!”

“What? All I’m saying is that you are going to have lots of fun. _Mature_ fun. Certainly more mature than I did,” she squirmed excitedly in her arm chair, “Oh, I’m just glad you’re adapting to Ark so well, Honey. Your mother might not have agreed so much with it but I really think I’m good for you. I’m sure she was so suffocating with all of her expectations… Not that I don’t love her, I really do. It’s just that she puts so much stress on herself. She always was like that…”

Clarke laid a hand on her grandmother’s knee, “It’s okay Grandma. I get it.”

Rose gave her a soft smile, “You go up to bed, Dear. Get some rest. I bet you’re so tired all the time now a days… We can discuss the details of this party tomorrow, okay? I’m all tuckered out, I’m getting too old.”

Clarke leaned in and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, “Okay grandma, goodnight.”

As she lay in her small bed room and gazed up at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but smile. Her Grandma Rose had always been an interesting character. Always acted more like a friend than a grandmother… It was a strong difference between her mother and her. Clarke was entirely glad to have the ability to get close to her, and, not for the first time, found herself appreciating Ark, Oregon.

Maybe it would be a good few years. She just hoped she hadn’t spoken too soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to leave your opinions in the comments :)

_Four months earlier…_

There was something so interesting, Clarke had found, about the fragility of human life. Not just in terms of death, though that was a large part of it,… but in the instability of a mind. In the way that if enough pressure was put onto it, it would splinter like an old rotted tree branch. Sometimes it didn’t even take a buildup. It only required one seemingly innocuous moment in time to fracture in disarray and then suddenly… suddenly it was all over. The human consciousness couldn’t handle it. And it would collapse into itself and lay, festering in the wounds made from the shards of the once perfectly proficient mind.

The fragility didn’t only expand to human consciousness… Oh no, the universe wouldn’t allow life to be so “easy”. Sometimes the foundation of a family a person once believed to be so solid would crumble beneath them – leaving them in the desolate loneliness of their own brittle mind.

Clarke had become all too familiar with these facts. Ones she would not wish upon even her worst enemy… But it happened to her. And she had to find a way to live with it.

If her state could even be considered “living” at all.

She sat in the plush chair of her therapist’s office, looking down silently upon her motionless hands in her lap. Her hair was thrown carelessly into a ponytail and the bags under her eyes gave way to the knowledge of the many nights she spent tossing and turning, incapable of finding sleep. It had been the same look she donned for many months now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The door clicked open, signifying the arrival of her therapist Emily. Clarke made no move to acknowledge her.

The middle-aged woman moved across to sit in front of her and greeted her the same way she did every time they had a meeting, “Hello Clarke, how are we feeling this afternoon?”

Clarke was sure that Emily was a nice woman, really. But given that she had to endure a full hour of small talk with her every week, she learned that the cheeriness in her voice was quite false. It made her think that maybe it was the therapists that needed therapy after all.

“The same,” Clarke replied quietly, continuing to gaze down at her hands.

Emily cleared her throat and scribbled on her paper. Clarke hated that goddamned paper.

“It was your birthday a few days ago right? Did you do anything special?”

Indeed, it had been her birthday. Her seventeenth to be exact. But considering she could hardly find it in herself to smile anymore, she didn’t celebrate it.  Unless the hastily thrown together cake her mother had made from a box counted.

“No.”

“That’s alright, celebrating isn’t for everybody.”

Clarke’s heart seemed to seize in her chest. Her dad loved celebrating birthdays. _Had_ loved celebrating birthdays. She bit her cheek to keep from revealing any emotion, drawing blood. The metallic taste brought her back to reality.

It had been three months. Shouldn’t she be okay by now?

“It’s okay Clarke. It’s okay to not be okay…” Emily’s voice was soft. Sympathetic.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want her sympathy.

There was more scribbling, and then, “How has your sleep been? Are you still having nightmares?”

She swallowed thickly, “Yes.” _Too many._

“And the panic attacks… Have you had one since we last met?”

Besides school, she hadn’t really been out of the house. Less opportunity to run into things that would trigger her anxiety.

“No.”

“Good,” Emily sighed, “I know that you don’t want to be here Clarke. Believe me, I do. But you need to know that it’s for your own health. And that in order for you to get better… You have to want to.”

Clarke made no move to answer, just continued to stare blankly down at her lap. As cliché as it was, she wasn’t entirely sure that there was a reason to get better. Her life just seemed so… desolate… now. Even when she was surrounded by people she still felt utterly alone.

“Clarke. Do you want to get better?”

She did look up then, into the inquisitive eyes of her therapist. She wanted to give Emily the answer that she knew she wanted, but her mind pulled her back to that night. The terror. The helplessness. The vision of her father collapsing lifeless right in front of her… She flinched and looked away from Emily, fighting to not display the devastation she felt.

But when Clarke replied, her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

+++

_Present Day…_

Clarke was never particularly one for dressing up. Whether it be formal wear or costumes for parties, she had always found it to be a bit trivial. There didn’t seem to be a point in parading around in a fancy get-up when she knew that she would really rather be in her normal clothes. She never wanted to portray herself as something she knew she wasn’t. Not to mention the fact that she was always much too busy anyway. School work had the better portion of her attention.

Yet, looking into the mirror hanging on the back of Raven’s bathroom door, Clarke had to admit that it was fascinating… To look upon herself and not see what she normally saw.

It was about an hour or so before the party, and the two girls were getting ready together. Raven had done an amazing job of twisting Clarke’s blonde curls into an intricate updo of loose braids. Though her makeup was still natural, it was a bit more than she was used to. Golden eyeshadow covered her lids, making her look regal and elegant. She donned a draped, flowy white dress synched at the waist by a golden rope belt, and metal ringlets circled her biceps.

The normal teenage Clarke didn’t stand before her… but a regal Greek goddess. One who certainly held more beauty than she thought she had the ability to.

There was a knock on the door then, startling Clarke from her thoughts.

“You can come in,” she called to the person on the other side – whom of which she was certain was just Raven checking on her.

As the door began to swing open, Raven was saying, “Did the dress fit you -,” upon seeing Clarke, her eye’s widened, “ _Chica!_ Daaaamn, that looks amazing on you!”

Clarke flushed slightly, “Thanks.”

The door pushed open further as Raven entered the bathroom. She was dressed as a 1920’s flapper. Complete with the short chin length wig, bedazzled headband, and tasseled dress. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Clarke commented as Raven spun in a little circle to show off her costume.

“Girl, we look _hot._ I know you don’t want to draw too much attention but no way that’ll be happening. Not with the way your boobs and legs are shown off in that dress.”

Clarke glanced again at herself in the mirror. It was true, the slit in the dress went up mid-thigh, showing off quite a bit of leg. And the neck line… well, it was a bit lower than she would normally wear.

Clarke shrugged at her friend, “I guess it’s time for me to live a little and have fun.”

Raven snorted, “You? Have fun?”

She crossed her arms, “I can have fun.”

Raven laughed as she took Clarke’s arm in her hand and began pulling her out of the bathroom. “We’ll see about that,” she said.

+++

Even from where they had parked, the music could be heard. The field was crowded with cars and random costumed people heading in the direction of the barn. Clarke hadn’t even been aware that there were a large enough number of people in Ark to allow for there to be so many people attending the party.

“Drinking game idea,” Raven said to her as they made their way towards the flashing lights and the bumping music, “Take a shot every time you see a girl dressed as Harley Quinn.”

Clarke laughed, “We’d be dead by the end of the night.”

When they entered through the doors of the barn, Clarke was surprised to see the number of teenagers that had managed to cram themselves into it. Though it was a spacious structure, it was teeming with more life than it probably had ever seen before. The music was three times as loud as it had been by the car, a DJ set up in the corner. Halloween decorations were strewn haphazardly on the walls and ceiling, and there were orange spot lights dancing all over the room. The crowds of people were dancing on each other to the music, paying no attention to anybody around them.

Clarke found it funny how similar it seemed to a club. Whoever put this party on, must have a lot of money to waste.

“Jasper and Monty are supposed to meet us here,” Raven yelled over the music. Again, she took her arm and tugged her into one of the more secluded corners where one of the garbage cans stood. Along the same wall was a table full of Halloween themed snacks and a punch bowl that had a high probability of being spiked. A keg sat on the opposite end of the table.

Raven jerked her head toward the keg, “I’m gonna get us a drink really quick. Be right back.” And before Clarke could protest, she sauntered off.

Clarke took in her surroundings. Many of the guys didn’t have costumes on, but the girls were in ‘sexy’ versions of every sort. Sexy nurse, sexy cop, even sexy Freddy Kruger. There were at least ten different Harley Quinns from the small portion of people that she could actually make out in the dimmed light. The boys who did dress up, well, they sported costumes of two different sorts. They were either horror movie characters or dressed as absurdly large food. She saw a hotdog, a banana, a taco… the list went on.

It was after a moment that she spotted Bellamy. He was in the opposite corner of the room, wearing (unsurprisingly) no costume and talking to a slutty nurse version of Roma. Clarke rolled her eyes as she saw that Roma’s hand rest on Bellamy’s chest and her other tugged at the hem of his white t-shirt. The girl hadn’t an ounce of decency.  Bellamy leaned in and whispered something into Roma’s ear, who Clarke saw giggle in return.

Momentarily, her mind took her back to school when she had witnessed the altercation between Bellamy and the mysterious man. Any remnants of his anger were no longer visible, the only emotion shown on his face being his cocky and flirtatious demeanor. How was it that a single boy could hold so much depth? To Clarke, Bellamy only grew more curious.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and turned her gaze back toward the dancing teens in the center. It was best to leave the mystery that was Bellamy Blake unpondered.

Raven returned a second later with two plastic cups of beer, “Here ya go, _chica._ ”

Clarke hesitated, fully aware that she had never been drunk before. She had never had the time or energy to attend any of the snobby parties that her fellow classmates from her private school had ever put on.

Raven cocked an eyebrow, “You can have ‘fun’, huh?” she teased.

Clarke scrunched her eyebrows together determinedly. Though it was a daunting prospect to her, she felt she needed prove to herself that she was not the same prudish and innocent young girl that her mother was so set on believing she was. The girl that she was taught to be.

“Gimme.” She grabbed the cup from Raven’s hand and then threw her head back and downed the contents. She made a face, allowing the bitter taste to sizzle down her throat. When she glanced at her friend, there was an astonished look on her face.

Raven laughed, “Well damn, consider me proven wrong.” She took a swig from her cup and made a disgusted expression, “Never was a fan of beer.”

Clarke was about to reply when she noticed two very familiar figures advancing toward them. “Jasper and Monty!” she said, grabbing hold of Raven’s wrist and tugging her along with her as she made her way to meet her friends.

“What are you even supposed to be?” she questioned an obviously high Jasper. He wore a onesie with the American flag printed on it and a sleeping mask pushed up into his disheveled hair.

He pulled the sleeping mask over his eyes, “I’m the American Dream. Get it?” A bubble of laughter escaped Clarke as she leaned in to give him a hug.

“And you?” she said after doing the same to Monty. He wore an old revolutionary style outfit with a white wig. “George Washington?”

Monty gave her a sheepish look, “Jasper wanted us to match.”

There was a moment of sudden inexplicable giddiness that built in her throat and she couldn’t tamp down on the giggle that burst from her. She wasn’t sure if it was the cup of beer she had just downed catching up to her or if she was just happy to see her friends, but she decided she liked it. Tonight was the night that she was going to let herself forget her past. And she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way.

For too long she had allowed her self to wallow in her own self-pity. It wasn’t going to be the case any longer.

After grabbing a snack from the table and a cup of punch (it was, indeed, spiked), Raven pulled her into the crowd of dancing bodies. She allowed herself to get lost to the beat of the music, dancing with Raven and the boys in ways she had never danced before. Her bones sung with the drunken bliss that was beginning to sweep its way through her body.

When her skin was sticky with sweat, and her hair had fallen a bit, loose strands hanging in her face, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning she was met with the familiar face of Octavia, dressed as a cat nonetheless. Clarke launched herself at the girl with a hug, a giggle escaping her. She wasn’t sure what caused her to do it, but she was sure that it was right.

Octavia stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the sudden bombardment. But she laughed, “Hey Clarke, I see you’ve had yourself a drink.”

A giggle escaped Clarke once more as she pulled back, “Is it that obvious already?”

Raven leaned in then, yelling over the music. “She’s never been drunk before. She’s a liiiight weight.” Clarke elbowed her at that, though she knew it was quite obviously true.

“Just wait until I get her to smoke,” chimed in Jasper, pausing in his weird jig. Clarke rolled her eyes and shooed him away. She wasn’t too drunk already not to know where a line was drawn.

The girls walked out of the crowd of dancing teens so that they could talk without being in the way of everybody.

“This is Raven by the way,” Clarke said loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I know,” Octavia replied, “I’ve seen her around.” Then she looked at Raven who offered her a smile.

“Why don’t you come dance with us!” Raven offered.

“Absolutely.”

“You guys go ahead,” said Clarke, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” She had been ignoring the urge ever since they had been dancing, remembering the myth of “breaking the seal”. But there was no possible way for her to hold it any longer… even if that meant she might have had to go to the out-house located just outside of the barn.

Raven shrugged and pulled Octavia with her toward the dance floor.

Outside of the barn there were still people milling about, drinking and laughing. She even passed a couple that was all but actually having sex with each other against the wooden wall of the barn. She laughed at them as she continued to make her way toward the latrine in the dark. It had to be around 10:30 already, the only light source being the flashing lights from inside the barn and the faint flicker of the lightbulb lit above the outhouse.

As she waited for the girl to finish and exit, she felt a new presence behind her.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” She knew that deep voice. Loathed the owner of that deep voice. She turned around and crossed her arms as she faced Bellamy, a smirk settled on his face.

“Having fun,” she stated simply. In the faint light he looked almost like a fallen angel, the shadows playing tricks with his handsome features.

She felt her face redden as his gaze swept over her body. Her loosened updo, the low plunge of her neckline, the golden rings that circled her arms, the exposed skin of her leg. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms self-consciously.

“A goddess,” he observed, “Athena maybe? Goddess of wisdom and war? Though it would be an inaccurate depiction…”

Clarke harrumphed, she wasn’t drunk enough to be dealing with him yet. “And what are you?” She said, eyeing his none-costume. “An asshole?”

He snorted, “Cute.”

She gave him an innocent smile. “I try.”

He stepped forward then, leaning his head next to her ear. “Play nice with my sister. I know she invited you here. Do anything to hurt her and we’ll have a problem.”

Anger flashed through her. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “That’s what you came up to me for? To threaten me? You know I witnessed you and your gang, right? Threaten me and there is nothing that’ll stop me from going to the police. I promise you that, Blake.”

Instead of his eye’s flickering with the anger that she thought they would have, he laughed. “ _Gang?_ Is that what you think I’m a part of?”

Her fists clenched at her sides, “I don’t know what you’re a part of. But I know it’s not legal.”

Bellamy scoffed, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough.”

He examined her for a silent moment, seemingly unaware of what to make of her. Clarke stopped herself from fidgeting under the scrutiny of his gaze.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re an interesting girl, Clarke Griffin.” And then he slowly backed up, keeping eye contact until he finally turned around and retreated into the crowded barn.

There had been far too many moments, in Clarke’s opinion, where she was left watching him leave.

+++

Half an hour and another beer or two later, Clarke was good and truly drunk. Laughing senselessly and gossiping with her friends and Octavia. Dancing and dancing until her feet felt like they would fall off. She felt more alive than she had ever had before. Gone was the fragile girl she had been only a few short months ago. Gone were the thoughts of her father. Of that one horrific night where everything went wrong. Gone was her constant overbearing mind, filling her with every possible thing that could ever go awry. All that was left was the weightless drunken bliss that sung through her bones and caused her to laugh at every little thing no matter if it was funny or not.

And she loved it.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia had been attempting a game of darts when she decided that she should probably take a break. The logical part of her knew that she would be feeling her decision to drink in the morning and that she should probably drink as much water as she could. So she grabbed a water bottle and pushed her way through the crowded space toward the crisp fall night, bumping into a few people as she did so.

When she was relaxing in the grass gazing at the unlit forest that surrounded the barn, swaying happily to the beat of the music with a drunken smile plastered across her face, an unfamiliar boy approached her. His disheveled blonde hair glimmered in the moonlight as he paused before her, looking down with a soft smile. Something about him seemed out of place. Like he was a bit too old to be at a high school party. Too gruff around the edges. But in her state, Clarke only cocked her head at him and smiled.

“Hey,” he said casually, sitting down beside her in the grass.

She giggled at his lack of costume, though she wasn’t sure why it was so funny to her. “You know this is a _costume_ party, right?” she slurred giddily, “Boys are so silly not wearing costumes to a costume party. You know Bellamy wasn’t wearing a costume? He’s silly too. Wait… You probably don’t know who Bellamy is. Who are you by the way?” The words tumbled out despite Clarke not giving any consent. She would have been more concerned that she was blabbering mindlessly to a stranger had she not been in her current state. Though she did find herself slightly confused at why she mentioned Bellamy.

The boy laughed. “I’m Dax,” he said, and then looked down at his hands sheepishly, “I’ve, uh, been kinda working up the courage to talk to you all night.” He looked up at her then, a half smile on his face.

She bit her lip to stop herself from giggling again. “ _Me_?” She was almost positive she had never seen this boy before, but she couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.

He smiled crookedly, “Yeah you. I saw you dancing with your friends and I thought you looked really pretty in your costume.”

She screwed her face up comically, “But you don’t even know me.”

“I’d like to,” Dax said with a shrug.

Clarke pursed her lips in feigned thought. He was relatively attractive… and if tonight was the night of letting loose, then she might as well allow herself to give the guy a chance.

“I’m Clarke,” she said. And when she smiled, it felt genuine.

Dax leaned in slightly, “Hi Clarke. Nice to meet you.”

She swayed toward him drunkenly, “Nice to meet you too.”

After twenty minutes of chatting and unabashed flirting, he offered to grab her another drink. Stuffing down the part of her that protested, she accepted – the entire time reminding herself that it was her night to have fun. She had never felt so relaxed as she did with alcohol in her system then… So why should she deny the feeling of freedom that another drink would allow her to have? She would just deal with the repercussions in the morning.

When he returned, he offered one of the two plastic cups he was holding to her. He laughed when she threw her head back and gulped half of it down, accepting the burn. Looking up at him, her face split into a smile.

He offered his hand to her, chuckling to himself, “Let’s go somewhere else,” he said quietly, “somewhere private.”

Private. Clarke wasn’t too drunk to not know what offer he was laying down. She was seventeen after all, and even though she had never been involved in a hook-up, she wasn’t a virgin. Maybe he thought she was a naïve young girl, maybe this whole thing was a ruse to get into her pants, but quite frankly, Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to care. He had been charming and sweet enough. He made her laugh – though it wasn’t hard to as she found she was the giggly drunk – and asked her sincere questions.  

A night of fun was what she came here for. So a night of fun was what she was going to get.

Maybe it was her intoxicated state, or maybe it was her helpless yearn for a release from the hell she had wrapped herself up in from the beginning of that night eight months ago, but she placed her hand in his. She’d be back before Raven or Octavia even noticed her absence.

When Dax waggled his eyebrows and pulled her up, she laughed, stumbling against him.

As she followed behind him into the brush of the surrounding woods, something within her began to feel… different. Not right. It was as if a veil had settled itself over her mind and she was viewing her actions as a separate being. Her mind began to go a little hazy and her legs tripped up over nothing. Dax caught her and swung her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She rubbed a hand up his muscled arm, smiling softly. He was stronger than he looked. It made her laugh.

She enjoyed the feeling of the night air blowing against her feet, so she swung them back and forth feeling the air sweep against the bottoms. Where had her shoes gone? She didn’t remember taking them off. She must have gotten rid of them because of the blisters they had been giving her while she was dancing with her friends.

She couldn’t quite make out Dax’s face, her vision going fuzzy around the corners. Giggling, she blinked a few times and reached up and poked him to be sure that he was actually there. His only reply was a grunt. She was momentarily confused.

“Where are we going?” she asked, continuing to sway her feet. His lack of reply concerned her. The friendly nature seemed to be gone from him, and he only looked straight ahead continuing to move through the trees. The light of the party grew faint in the distance.

She squirmed in his arms, nervously. “I can walk Dax. You can put me down now,” she said. Or at least tried to - her words weren’t quite coming out the proper way anymore. And her vision was growing even more blurry. Fear began to creep its way up her throat, and she stopped kicking her legs.

“Shut up,” he hissed at her. The giddy happiness was fading from her now, replaced by a solid lump of dread in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t see much anymore, and her whole body felt tired – as if she had just run a marathon. She tried to thrash in his arms but she couldn’t move, it was as if all the energy that she had previously had drained from her completely.

“Dax…” she attempted, but it was barely audible. She lolled her head to the side in an attempt to gather her bearings

Suddenly they entered a clearing and she could make out a new man’s voice. Dax tossed her onto the ground where she landed on her knees. She made a weak attempt at lifting herself to stand, but her body ached and she collapsed back down.

“No.” Clarke whispered. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying no to, but she repeated it. Again and again, quietly to herself.

“Good job Dax,” she heard the new voice say, “the bitch deserves this.”

She could taste bile in her mouth. What had she even done? She was new to Ark… What had she done to deserve this? She trembled as she curled in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them. Her body felt as though it was draining itself of its own energy. Her senses waning. Darkness creeping into her mind, pulling her toward it. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing for the men to leave. For the nightmare to end.

A hand ripped at her hair and her head was yanked back, forcing her to look in the face of the new man. She was only able to make out a vaguely familiar face – though she was unsure where she knew him from. The haze over her mind caused her head to loll against the man’s hand. She was losing her bearings and she had to fight to keep her eyes open.

“She’s a pretty one, you have to admit,” she could hear the deep voice rumble, “Too bad we have to teach her the consequences of involving herself in things she doesn’t understand.”

A cluck, “Maybe we can have our fun with her when she’s passed out,” she heard Dax reply with a dry laugh. Her stomach lurched, but nothing came up.

“You slipped her the sedative?” came the rumbling reply.

“Yes.”

She was thrown to her side suddenly, her aching body unable to catch herself as she collapsed against the dirt. She whimpered as she felt a pressure on her back, a body pressed flush against her.

“No!” she managed weakly.

_How could this be happening again?_

She was trapped, the body on top of her feeling like a million tons. The skirts of her dress twisted and ripped around her legs tying her down, unable to move. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t see. She could hardly feel. Her breath began to slow, and she knew she was fading. Being swallowed by the darkness. Every part of her willed her to give in and fall under. Deep under. Her mind was pulling her down, down, down.

And just as she felt herself give in… there was a shout. The release of the body weight from her back. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. And then there was nothing.

+++

She awoke briefly, vaguely aware of her presence in the back seat of a truck that she was unfamiliar with. She was leaned against the car door, wrapped in something warm. In the window across from her, she could see the night sky zooming past. There was the faint sound of music, and two voices whispering to each other quietly.

“It’s all my fault,” a familiar female voice said miserably.

“Don’t say that. It is _not_ ,” a deep male voice replied, “If anybody’s, it’s mine.”

Clarke attempted to lift herself up, but failed, too weak to even move.

“We can’t take her to her house, Bell,” said the female voice.

“Then where are we supposed to take her?”

“She has to come back with us.”

“She can’t,” The male voice growled.

“Yes,” the female voice hissed back, “she can.”

“But Jaqueline –“

“Jackie doesn’t give a shit what we do and you know it.”

A sigh, “Fine! Fine.”

There was a rustling and Clarke felt the warmth adjust around her. Her consciousness flickered, threatening to pull her back into to sleep.

“I can’t believe he’d would do something like this.”

“He’s desperate, O.”

“I’m just glad I saw Dax head towards the woods with her.”

There was a long pause, and then, “Me too.”

It quieted between them, the soft music tinkling through the car. Clarke’s lids grew heavy again, and the world around her faded once more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1\. SLDJHGFAK;SK LAST NIGHTS EP WTF  
> 2\. Thank you to my bestest blarke momma Lully (@clarkesgrfin on tumblr) for the new graphic she incorporated to this fic  
> 3\. Thank you for the lovely comments!! I'm so happy you guys are liking this story!!
> 
> And without further adieu, here's the next chapter. Enjooyy!!

There was nothing around her but endless darkness and the sound of the horrific laugh that had haunted her for months on end ringing through her ears. It sounded like it was coming from every angle. Near and far. Everywhere. She choked on the fear that was lodged in her throat like a palpable _thing._ And she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, _she couldn’t breathe._

The laughter faded, and she was left with nothing but the deft silence. And just when she thought that the blackness would swallow her whole, a dim lamp light flickered on in a short distance, a crumpled figure lay bloodied beneath it. It was her father, she realized. The taste of bile filled her mouth as she released a weak sob.

Clarke lunged forward attempting to reach the light, only to find that her legs were bound in heavy chains, her wrists bleeding from the strain against the plastic zip ties that secured them together. She tumbled forward onto her knees with a sharp cry.

“Dad-!” she sobbed. It echoed around her in the silence as if mocking her inability to move toward her father.

Another figure moved into the spotlight. One Clarke knew all to well. One that caused the trembling in her body to intensify as she was left to watch him grip her father by the hair and bring his head up. She could see that both of his eyes were blackened and swollen nearly shut. She pulled against her chains, attempting to crawl toward him.

 “No!” her voice came out raw and terrified.

The figure pulled out a gun and looked to her with malice, a psychotic smile split across his ugly face. When he placed the barrel against her father’s temple, she lunged once more, a sob ripping its way out of her mouth.

“You stupid girl,” the figure’s eerie voice filled the silence around her, “If only you were able to save him.”

“Please!” she cried, ignoring the pain in her wrists as she continued to yank against them. Fresh blood was running down her arms.

The figure’s body shook and the same laugh reverberated through the darkness.  He cocked the gun, the bullet sliding into its chamber. A smile slowly slid across his features as if he was basking in her misery.

Then he pulled the trigger. She watched in slow motion as her father jerked sideways and crumpled lifelessly onto the ground. And the black void was filled with the sound of Clarke’s screams.

+++

She jerked awake, sweaty and breath coming in short spurts. Her limbs felt heavy and her throat raw. A Nightmare. That’s all it was. Just a nightmare.

By why did it feel so _real_?

Groggily, Clarke sat up and immediately regretted it. Her head was spinning. She lifted a shaky hand and rubbed at her temple, attempting to massage the headache away. She was vaguely aware of the fact that her legs were bare and she wore a t-shirt that was at least twice her size.  Stretching her aching limbs, she gave a mighty yawn and then scrunched her face up. The taste in her mouth was absolutely putrid. She had to think for a moment to attempt to remember why exactly she hadn’t brushed her teeth.

And then it all flooded back to her. The party. Getting drunk. Meeting the boy.

 _Oh god._ She had been drugged. She had been drugged and they were going to hurt her and then- and then? She suppressed a shiver. The only other thing she remembered after that was blackness. Blackness and the faintest feeling that she had been rescued somehow…

That was when she realized she had no idea where she was. Her legs were twisted upon the sheets of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. She swallowed thickly as she surveyed the room around her. The stark white walls, the single dresser, the puny shelf shoved into the corner that held stacks of thick books. The room held no personality save for the two picture frames placed on the bedside table. One depicted a beautiful young woman cradling a baby and an ornery looking little boy clinging onto her leg with his grubby hands, and the other a young boy cheesing at the camera with one of his front teeth missing.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to rack her brain for information. Inhaling a long deep breath, she mentally shuffled through the events of the previous night. Her eyes popped open. Oh god, Raven – Raven had to be worried sick. She swiveled her gaze in an attempt to find her phone, but it was nowhere to be seen. Neither was her costume for that matter. The room was completely clean, lacking any personal items what so ever…. What the hell happened last night? Where did she end up?

The door clicked open and Clarke jerked her head to face it. When it opened wider, it revealed the face of the last person she could possibly expect it to be: Octavia Blake. In her hands she held a small towel and a toothbrush.

“How ya feeling?” she asked, hesitantly walking towards the bed.

“I’ve definitely been better… Did – Uh… What happened last night?”

Octavia sat on the edge of the bed, “You don’t remember?”

Clarke swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I do. I mean – some of it. What… How did I end up here? What happened?”

“I’m not sure exactly, to tell you the truth. One minute you were next to me and the next you weren’t. And then…” she looked concerned as she propelled herself forward and wrapped her arms around Clarke, “Oh god, as soon as I saw you walked off with Dax, I ran to get Bellamy. He and Miller found you and when he brought you back you were passed out and a little bruised and I nearly flipped. We brought you back to our house because we weren’t sure what else to do. Oh god, if I knew this would have happened I never would have told you to come to the party.” Her voice was shaking slightly. Her words coming out in a rush.

Clarke calmly shrugged Octavia off of her and then placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She gulped, “Octavia. You know Dax?”

“I…” Octavia leaned back and looked down at her lap, “He, uh, works with Bellamy. He’s dangerous.”

Incredulously, Clarke gave an exasperated sigh. “ _Works_ with Bellamy? What the hell type of job does he have?”

Octavia’s mouth turned down at the corners, “I’m sorry… but uh, that’s not my business to tell. You’ll have to ask him if you want an explanation.”

Clarke rubbed an aching hand down her face. This was insane. She was attacked last night. Drugged. And it had something to do with _Bellamy?_ Of all people, of course he would be involved in a horrific event such as what she had gone through. And _of course_ it had to happen to her. Had she not suffered enough already? Did the world just look at her and want to make her life hell?

Something thudded into her lap and she looked down to find that Octavia had given her back her phone.

“I told Raven about what happened. She, uh, nearly ran out there to get you herself but I held her back. When Bellamy returned with you he wouldn’t let her get close and I swear she almost punched him in the face,” a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “She insisted that you go to her house but I said no and then told her to call your parents and tell them you were going to be staying over at a friend’s. So Bell just put you in his truck and we went home. You should probably call her when you get the chance… She was really worried.”

Clarke’s heart expanded at the knowledge of how much Raven had already cared about her. She clicked on her phone to find that there were two missed calls and several texts from her friend. But right when she was about to type a reply, the screen went dark.

 _Dammit._ It died.

Clarke sagged against the headboard of the bed and closed her eyes. A sudden wave of exhaustion blanketed over her. Her head was still pounding and her limbs felt as if they were on fire. She just wanted to get home and crawl into her bed so that she could forget about everything.

Octavia placed a careful hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “Here,” she said, handing her the towel and the toothbrush. “The bathroom is across the hall. I’m sure you want to wash up before heading home.”

“Thank you.” Clarke said, and she pulled the younger girl toward her for a hug. It was so easy to forget that she was only sixteen, the girl holding all the maturity of an adult. It was as if she had seen some things. Clarke supposed it was possible for people to think the same thing for her. The world was a cruel place.

Only when she disentangled herself from the sheets and stood up did she remember her state of clothing. Nervously, she looked at Octavia. “Did uh… Did you change me?”

“Yes, sorry. Your dress was so ripped and muddy… I figured you didn’t want to be trapped in them when you were sleeping. It’s in the wash, but there’s not much I can do about the rips.”

Clarke loosed a shaky breath, “That’s fine.” And she padded out the door and across to the bathroom.

Only when the bathroom door was shut and locked behind her did she allow herself the novelty of releasing the soft whimper that had been building up in her chest since she had awoken. She stumbled forward and gripped the small sink with her hands. Peering into the mirror, she realized she looked like hell. Her hair looked as if birds had made their home in it, the braids falling in many places tangled and frizzy. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was so pale it was almost transparent. On the top of her forehead, there was a small abrasion that she must have gotten when she was being thrown about in the woods. The face that stared back at her was one of misery. The same misery she felt deep within her bones.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the sink even tighter. There was no way that Octavia was able to change her and not have noticed the massive scar she brandished along her abdomen. A scar that occurred as a result of that night – a constant hideous reminder of the hell she had gone through.

The memory brought the taste of bile to her mouth. She could remember it like it was yesterday… The sting of the cut… how clean the knife had sliced through her flesh. The psychotic smile of the man as he did it – as if her pain was his driving force.

She shuttered. And then – and then it happened again. She had been tricked. Hurt. They were going to kill her – do other things to her. And she would have lain helpless, forced to endure more of the horrendous acts that other people could perform… She had endured that before, several months previous, and it had nearly broken her.

She snapped her eyes back open and gave herself a stern look. She took shuddering deep breaths – in and out, in and out- until she felt herself relax. Until the walls stopped closing in around her. Until the face that peered back at her from the mirror morphed before her from one of pain to one of solid resignation. Yes, she had endured pain. Yes, she had been through hell. Yes, she was close to going through it again… But she was done. Months ago she had decided she had grown tired of the fragile girl that had manifested from her tragic events. And though she still found herself fractured in some areas, she had realized that she didn’t want to be that girl any longer.

She was done feeling sorry for herself. And she was stronger now because of it.  

Clarke rocked back on her feet and rolled her aching shoulders. Now what she had to do was figure out what the fuck she had gotten herself into. And why Bellamy Blake was caught in the center of it.

She quickly cleaned herself, brushing her teeth, splashing water over her face to scrape the day before’s grubby remnants, dampening her hair and sweeping it back into a bun on the top of her head.

When she felt sufficiently clean, she exited the bathroom to cross back over to the room she had been allotted to stay in the previous night. She had to get home (though she was very aware of the fact that she had ridden to the party with Raven and would most likely have to call her to have her come pick her up) She needed to talk to Octavia, maybe use her phone since her own was dead. She had quite honestly not even given thought to the possibility that she’d need to deal with Bellamy Blake until she swung open the door of the bedroom and found him sitting on the bed, tending to a bloodied bandage wrapped around his bicep.

At the sound of the door opening, his head swiveled to face her. He looked uncharacteristically exhausted, though he was still devastatingly handsome. His hair was a mess from sleep, and he was shirtless. Clarke had to fight to keep her gaze on his face. For a second, they stood there not knowing what to make at the sight of each other. Clarke fidgeted, aware of the fact that the only article of clothing she wore was a t-shirt and it only covered her to mid-thigh.

In a desperate attempt to staunch the silence, she said the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doing here?”

Bellamy’s mouth turned up in the corner, “This is my house.”

She shifted her weight and rolled her eyes. “No, I mean what are you doing in _here,_ ” she said, gesturing to the room, “Where’s Octavia?”

He eyed her for a moment, the lazy smirk still solid on his face. “Well I suppose she would be in her own room, considering this is _mine._ ”

She had to stop herself from widening her eyes in shock. _His?_  Oh god, she had slept in his bed.

“I, uh – I thought this was Octavia’s room.”

He loosed a breathy laugh, “Oh god no, O would never have a room as clean as this.” At the nickname, she vaguely recalled a memory of soft whispering voices and the feel of a moving vehicle… but she pushed it back.

“You let me sleep in your bed?”

His smirk somehow deepened, “I know, it’s not a feat most girls get to experience. So lavish in the moment, Princess.”

Ignoring her heated cheeks, Clarke released a huff at his comment. “You’re a pig, Bellamy Blake.”

“I slept with Jax so that you could have the bed. And trust me, it wasn’t chivalry on your part. I didn’t want my siblings to have to lose their own beds.”

At the name, a memory sparked within Clarke. A warning… From Miller. That day at school when she had witnessed him and the man, Miller had said that name. Jax. So he had another sibling? It would explain the other picture beside his bed. The first must have been him and Octavia. She had to force the question of who exactly Jax was to the back of her mind. And he offered no further explanation.

Instead she said, “Color me appreciative.”

Silence wrapped back around them as Bellamy turned his attention back to the bloodied bandage on his arm. It was then that she allowed herself to actually look upon his bare upper body. There was no denying how attractive he was, with the taught rippling muscle, but something else caught her attention. Scars littered his skin – his back and his abdomen were covered in various sized ones – and not for the first time did she find herself wondering about the mystery that he presented himself as.

She watched as Bellamy unwrapped the bandage and revealed a wicked looking gash. He winced only slightly as he placed a rag to it – probably in an attempt to clean the blood.

“What the hell happened to you?” she said, taking a step forward to get a better look.

He glanced up at her, seemingly surprised that she was still standing there. “This was what I got when I saved your ass last night – you’re welcome by the way.”

“I-“ she swallowed the retort she nearly threw toward his sarcasm, “thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, expression unreadable, and then he nodded. He then pulled out a pouch and unzipped it to reveal a needle, thread, and a bandage.

Realizing what he was about to do, she walked over to the bed. “Bellamy, you should just go to the doctor instead of doing this yourself.”

Again, he seemed surprised that she hadn’t left already – and honestly, she wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t either. It was as if something in her was undeniably drawn to him, though she hated to admit it. She really should have just asked him where Octavia was and left to find her, but she didn’t want to.

Bellamy’s jaw tightened, “I don’t have the money for that shit.”

She crossed her arms at his defiance, “At the angle you’re doing it in, there’s no way you can stitch yourself up without leaving a scar.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, a questioning look obviously etched onto his features. “That’s never stopped me before.”

Sighing, she sat on the bed and offered her hand out in front of her for him to hand her the needle. She hated his guts, but he obviously needed help in this department. And since he saved her last night… well, it was the least she could do. Plus, she’d get a chance to further question him about what the hell he was involved in.

But instead of him doing what she wanted – because god forbid he do that – he cocked an eyebrow.

Clarke rolled her eyes, “My mom is a doctor, I know how to stitch someone up,” He made no move to hand it to her, so she continued, “Jesus Bellamy, Just let me help you. It’s better to have somebody else do it anyway.”

There was a beat of continued silence from him. One Clarke found the slightest of concern for considering who he was and how he acted most often… But he seemed genuinely intrigued by her want to help him, and she had to admit that she was unsure why she was being so insistent.

It was as if they were caught in this trap, the two of them. Neither of them understanding their own place in it and not knowing what to do when it came to the other party member. And though it was most disconcerting, Clarke knew that from the very first time they met each other, there seemed to be an undeniable _pull._ Whatever the case, she had yet to discover whether hers was positive or negative.

Lost in her own mind, she felt rather than saw Bellamy relax beside her. She hadn’t realized she had sat down in such a close proximity, but she decided to blame it on the fact that she needed to study the gash on his arm further. She felt the cold metallic prick of metal being placed into her hand and glanced up to find that he had placed the tools in it, still having said not a word. She ignored the fire that his dark gaze alit inside of her chest, deciding to blame it on her rather more obvious hatred for him.

Clarke leaned in to get a better look at the wound and sucked in a deliberate breath. It was pretty damn deep. “You should have taken care of this right away,” she said looking up at his face -even sitting he was at least half a foot taller than her, “Why didn’t you?”

“I was kind of busy, carrying you in here and all. And it was pretty late, and I was exhausted” His voice came out a little gruff, and having noticed it himself, he gulped. Perhaps his train of thought had been similar to her own. But she thought it best not to dwell on.

Clarke dampened the rag with more antiseptic that he had laying on his bed, only rolling her eyes at his excuse. When she placed it to the gash, his only sign of pain was the tightening of his muscles.  (As if they needed anymore accentuating) When she got the wound sufficiently cleaned, she doused the needle in the same antiseptic and dexterously threaded it. Her only warning before she thread it through his skin was the look she gave him – a question. His answer was the slightest of nods.

As she worked, silence blanketed the two of them once more. A silence in which gave Clarke’s mind time to wonder. It was obvious that whatever had happened to her last night had to do with Bellamy – Octavia had given away as much – but what was he a part of that would have caused the attack? Though her memory of the previous night was foggy, she did recall the presence of a second person. One that she had the faintest memory of recognizing. She couldn’t remember the details of his face having been under whatever sedative Dax had slipped her, (she mentally kicked herself at her own stupidity, and at the naivety that which she had to have believed that she would ever be relieved of the presence of past demons) but she could have sworn that it was one she knew.

And it inevitably had to lead back to Bellamy considering that Octavia admitted to him “working” with Dax.

Maybe it had to do with her interfering with whatever she had witnessed the previous Monday. It had to… There was nothing else that she had gotten herself involved with.

“Do you do that often?” Came Bellamy’s voice from next to her. The softness of it shocked her out of her reverie. It was weird. She didn’t think he had the ability to speak so quietly.

Clarke scrunched her eyebrows, confused, and didn’t look up from her hands deftly working to close the incision. “What?”

“Disappear into your mind. You just did it twice in the span of the five minutes we’ve been sitting here,” he replied.

Her hands paused, and she did look up at him then. She opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to reply. _Yes_ would have been the simplest of answers, but then he would inquire why and she wasn’t prepared to explain. Didn’t think she ever would be to anyone, let alone him.

He released a quiet laugh that really wasn’t even a laugh to be honest, more of a huff with half a smile.  “You really are an interesting one.”

She only snorted and looked back down at the wound. She could remember the time her mother had taught her exactly what she was doing. Clarke had been fifteen at the time, and her mother had accidentally sliced her own finger open. She had called on Clarke, requesting her help. Taught her step by step what to do. It was almost comical at how scared she had been, looking back.

Clarke finished the stitch up and then secured the knot. She adjusted her spot on the bed next to Bellamy, not really being comfortable with the proximity she was to him.

“There,” she said, “finished.”

The bed shifted beneath her as Bellamy stood up and walked to the closet, swiftly pulling a shirt from a hanger within and pulling it over his head. She hadn’t realized it, but she greatly appreciated him covering himself up because his bare chest turned out to be quite the nuisance of a distraction. She simply wanted nothing to do with any juvenile attraction her body had toward his.

“Be careful. Move it around too much and it’ll tear back open,” she scolded him, attempting to steer herself away from where her mind was taking her.

Bellamy swiveled on his heal and faced her with soft smirk settled on his face, “Thanks doc, but I’ve handled a few scratches like this before. I think I’m good.”

 _Good._ Clarke thought. That was good. Because then she wouldn’t feel bad for doing what she was about to do next. It was time for some answers.

She stood – ignoring the embarrassing realization that she _still_ had no pants on – and took a step toward him. “Great so that means you’re in perfect condition to answer my questions.”

Bellamy only cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Tell me who Dax is,” she said.

He leaned back against the bedroom wall behind him and crossed his arms. “Who?” he said casually. Infuriatingly so.

Clarke crossed her own arms and fixed him with an irritated glare. “Oh bull _shit,_ who. Octavia told me you know him.”

Bellamy swore under his breath and ran a hand down his face. He stood straight again and walked a few feet closer to the door, facing away from her.

“Tell me who he is,” she repeated. She was determined to find out what he had dragged her into.

“He works with me,” he bit out. Though his back was to her, she could see his jaw working.

Clarke took a step toward him. ” _Works?_ Bellamy what the hell are you a part of? Tell me or so help me god I’ll report this to the police.”

“That’s none of your business.”

Propelled by her exasperation, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face her. “It became my business when they attacked me last night! Tell me what the hell I walked in on at school the other day.”

Bellamy shrugged her hand off of his shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. Still, he said nothing.

Clarke took another step toward him until their faces were merely inches apart. He was possibly the most frustrating person that she had ever encountered, but she would get answers out of him – so help her god.

Making sure he had no choice but to look her directly in the eye, she whispered savagely, “I’m a part of this now whether you like it or not. Now tell me.”

His jaw slackened, and his eyes swept over her face as though he was studying it. Only when they landed on her lips did she falter slightly, leaning back on her heels.

He sighed and walked around her, finding a place on the edge of the bed. “Fine.”

She followed behind him, making sure to sit as far as she could away from him on the opposite side of the bed.

“We call it The Arena,” he began, voice unbearably deep, “An illegal fighting ring outside of town. Every Friday I go and I do whatever I can to ensure that I make enough money to help support us. They make bets on who they believe will win – that’s how fighters make their money.” He looked up at her, “I always win.”

Clarke shifted, a million questions flying through her head at once. “And the guy? The one in the alley at school?”

“His name is Cage. He was The Arena’s best fighter before I showed up. Undefeated until he fought me. He does whatever it takes to target me – and the people I care about. Dax is his henchman basically.”

“So… he thought that I had some sort of connection to you?”

“Apparently. He didn’t like that you warned me before he attacked at school. Must have thought you held some sort of significance to me.”

“So he sent Dax to lure me into a trap,” she finished, shifting her weight to lean back onto her hands. She silently chastised herself, of course she would somehow get herself sucked into his mess - though she was glad that it wasn’t some sort of drug ring like she had feared. But it was still something that could have been avoided had she not been so nosy.

“Exactly.”

“Well, uh, thank you… For saving me last night.” And this time it was genuine.

Bellamy’s eyes flickered up to meet her gaze and for a moment Clarke was unable to read his expression. Never in her life had she met such an infuriating and confusing human being that she somehow found herself comfortable yet on edge with all at once.

“It’s no problem,” he replied gruffly and a little awkwardly. He had that look again… the one where he seemed to be just as confused by her as she was of him.

There was a knock at the door then, and both of them startled to find Octavia watching them with a curious look on her face. “When I heard it get weirdly quiet back here, I figured I’d check to see that one of you hadn’t killed the other. Imagine my surprise to find you two staring into each other’s eyes.”

Clarke jumped up, attempting to put as much distant between her and Bellamy as possible. They obviously hadn’t been doing anything, yet she still felt guilty. As if she was caught doing something that she had sworn off.

And then, upon seeing Octavia’s amused twinkle in her eyes, Clarke peered down at her legs and realized that _she still only had a baggy shirt on._ Goddammit.

“Can I – uh – Do you have some shorts that I can barrow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't @ me for using cages name okay. And I know! there's still a lot to explore with the Blake family! But all will be answered in due time!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the small hiatus I took from writing. I was trying to focus my time on my summer classes and some of the art projects I wanted to work on. But I have resumed writing so here's the next chapter!

In hindsight, she should have known that Octavia wouldn’t allow her to just up and leave after the disaster that was the night before. Even after only a single week of truly knowing the younger girl, Clarke knew that she was the most intensely stubborn person she had ever come across -so she really was unsure why she found herself surprised as she stood in the small kitchen area of the Blake’s house twenty minutes and a change of (slightly too small) clothes later. They were Octavia’s of course, seeing as though her own clothes were back at her grandmother’s and the only other clothing she had were the tattered remnants of her costume.

Clarke suppressed a shiver. She still couldn’t quite remember all that happened the previous night – and she was honestly unsure whether it was a good thing or not.

To steer her thoughts away from what surely couldn’t have been good for her already less-than-stellar mental health, she instead focused on the tiny brunette flitting about the small kitchen a she prepared the breakfast she insisted Clarke stay for. It smelled delicious, Clarke had to admit. The savory aroma wafting its way around the small area… But then again, she could only assume that Octavia had an uncanny knack for cooking – given the fact that she had only said two words since she began her escapade. It had been a startling contrast to the mile-a-minute speed she had been speaking before hand.

Clarke leaned against the counter nearest to her, fidgeting awkwardly as she watched Octavia’s slender form move around the kitchen almost harmoniously. Like a chaotic dance. And Clarke supposed it could have been just that had there not been the omelet frying in the pan and a spatula in the young girl’s hand. The sound of music reverberated through the kitchen and, despite the lack of space the area provided, Octavia was shimmying to the beat. She seemed so at ease – quite the opposite of how Clarke felt if she was honest.

“Are you sure there’s nothing for me to help with?” Clarke asked, eyes following Octavia as she did a haphazard twirl to reach the chopped green peppers on the cutting board. She twirled back and dropped them into the mass of cooking egg, then flipped it before glancing over at Clarke. Octavia’s easy smile made her relaxed nature almost palpable, and Clarke found her shoulders easing subconsciously.

“Clarke,” the girl shook her head chastisingly, “You’re _my_ guest. I’m not gonna have you cook the breakfast I insisted you stay and eat.”

She had a point… But still, Clarke huffed. Though she didn’t protest because she already knew it would have made no difference. The Blake’s were definitely an ornery bunch, no denying that.

Octavia let out a laugh – Probably at Clarke’s defeated expression. “You think Bell and I are bad? Wait until you meet Jax. He’s the most hard-headed ten-year-old I know.”

Clarke cocked her head. Jax. There was that name again. The one Bellamy had mentioned earlier when talking about his siblings.

“Is.. Is Jax your brother?”

Octavia moved her attention back to the frying pan but nodded. She held an expression on her face that portrayed her unwillingness to speak any further on the subject. Like she already said something she wasn’t supposed to. Clarke felt curiosity grow in the pit of her stomach. What was it with these two and being so secretive?

Before she could bite her tongue, she asked, “Where is he?” Bellamy had mentioned earlier that he slept with Jax but Clarke hadn’t seen an inkling of evidence that he was even present. Especially for somebody who was said to be so young. Shouldn’t she have been able to hear him participating in some sort of childish activity? Or at least see a mess of kid’s things somewhere?

The younger girl didn’t move her attention from the pan, suddenly quiet. “He’s at a friend’s. Stayed with them last night. Bellamy doesn’t like leaving him alone with Jackie.

Clarke scrunched her eyebrows together, curiosity growing. She was unsure why Bellamy would have lied about such a small fact like whether or not his little brother was around. She wanted to ask Octavia why he would have lied about it, but instead she asked a different question.

“Who’s Jackie?”

It was then that Octavia looked over at her, a somber expression replacing the once easygoing smile. “Our foster mom.”

Oh. _Oh._ How naive of Clarke to assume that they lived in a perfectly normal household with two parents and happiness. Not everybody got to have as great as an upbringing as herself. She felt her cheeks heat with shame.

She only nodded back at Octavia, fully aware that it wasn’t her place to push any further on the subject. Octavia may have seemed mature well beyond her years, but she was still only a kid - only a year younger than Clarke herself – and she had probably seen some things. Just as Clarke had.

Who was she to push anyway? She’d never known the struggle of living entwined in such a controversial legal system. It had to be traumatizing. Suddenly Bellamy’s reasoning for being involved in an illegal fighting ring made more sense. _Every Friday I go and do whatever I can to ensure that I make enough money to help support us._ His decision to get involved in illegal activities might have been stupid and dangerous, but it was also selfless. Clarke felt a part of her heart soften at the knowledge.

Octavia reached over to her phone and paused the music. Looking back at Clarke with her casual smile back in it’s place, she said, “I’m almost finished up. If you really wanna help you can go grab Bell?”

Clarke’s shoulder’s tensed at the idea, but she nodded nonetheless. After Octavia had interrupted them, he hadn’t said a single word to her. Just went back to his broody self and allowed Octavia to drag her from his room.

NOT that Clarke had any protest to it. She hardly tolerated the guy as is. But… it still just hadn’t seemed normal after what could only have been considered a decent breakthrough – at least, when it came to the two of them.

“You remember where his room is, right?” Octavia asked as Clarke pushed herself off the counter she was leaning on.

“Yeah.” she replied. How could she not? The house was an awfully small thing. And quite dingy too if she was completely honest. Crowded with old tattered furniture and miscellaneous piles of different items crammed into corners and strewn about. Honestly the cleanest area had been Bellamy’s room. But Clarke knew she had absolutely no right to judge. It wasn’t like the Blakes had a choice in what home they were placed in.

A short trip out of the kitchen and across the small cluttered living room brought her to the same hallway she had been in earlier. Though this time Bellamy’s door was sealed tightly shut. Clarke hesitated for just a fracture of a moment before reaching up and rapping her knuckles against the door.

There was no reply.

She tried again. “Bellamy! Octavia wanted me to get you. Breakfast is ready.”

This time she could hear a grumbling come from within and a moment later, the door peeled open. Clarke subconsciously took a step back. She opened her mouth to say something to the boy before her standing in the doorway – perhaps to ask him why he might have lied about Jax not being in the house – but before she could, Bellamy pushed past her without a second glance.

Clarke refrained from making a childish face at him behind his back.

When ten minutes later they were sitting around the small kitchen table silently scraping at their plates and Bellamy _still_ had avoided any eye contact with her, she had to keep herself from bristling at him. She tried to tell herself her reaction was due to indignance, not to the underlying line of… hurt?

Octavia cleared her throat from beside her and nudged her arm with her elbow, “So Clarke, how do ya like your omelet?”

Clarke smiled at her, “It’s really good.” And it was. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

“Guess I’m just naturally talented,” she said with a wink.

Bellamy snorted, the first sound he had made since protruding from his room. “Yeah right. Talented from a skill _I_ taught you.”

Clarke cocked her head at him. Bellamy? A cook? She never would have guessed. The infuriatingly handsome boy sitting in front of her had a lot more layers then she originally thought.

“He speaks,” came Octavia’s sarcastic reply. Bellamy shot an unamused look toward her – to which she only snickered. “Why’re you acting like you’ve got a stick shoved up your butt?”

Clarke snorted. It was the understatement of the century. Before, she had thought they were on decent terms. Thought that they might have met on common ground when he had finally admitted to what was going on and what she had unintentionally become apart of. But now? He wasn’t even making his usual flirtatious or snide remarks.

Bellamy leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “I’m not acting like anything.” Then, for the first time since earlier that morning, his gaze moved to Clarke, “Isn’t it about time she be heading home anyway?”

Clarke scowled, “ _She_ is sitting right here.”

He ignored her, looking back over at is sister. So much for what had seemed to be an understanding between the two of them. He was back to being the asshole he usually displayed himself as. Clarke couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed.

“Don’t be such a dick Bellamy Blake,” Octavia snapped at him, “She needed our help. So we helped her.”

Clarke shifted awkwardly in her seat. If there was one thing she didn’t appreciate being viewed as, it was weak. She wasn’t weak. Not after everything that she had been through. But still, Bellamy had a point. The clock on the kitchen stove was too far away to see over the counter, but she knew it had to almost be mid-day at that point. And with her phone dead, Raven had to be worried sick.

“Ya know?” she started, “I probably should be get going. Thank you for helping me after… last night. I really appreciate it.”

Octavia’s face softened, “Sure, it was the least we could do.” She looked over at her brother expectantly, “Right Bell?”

A muffled thud and Bellamy’s sudden jerk gave evidence that Octavia had kicked him beneath the table. Clarke felt an amused smile tug at her lips.

“Yeah.” Bellamy grit out.

Nodding as if she felt accomplished, Octavia went on, “Bellamy can give you a ride home.”

Clarke’s smile dissipated, “Oh, there’s no need –“

“Of course there is,” the younger girl interrupted her before she could finish, “besides, your phone is dead and you can’t call anyone to come get you.”

Clarke’s mouth snapped shut and she glanced over in Bellamy’s direction. From his expression, she could tell he was thinking the same thing as her – that the ride was most definitely not going to be fun for either of them. But the expression on Octavia’s face proved she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

+++

After what was an excruciatingly silent car ride, Bellamy’s truck finally pulled into the driveway of Clarke’s grandmother’s house. It was a quirky two-story house that was a washed blue color and lavished wall to wall with brightly colored flowers. Along the house’s edges, in the window sills, even hanging from the top rails of the porch. Clarke had always been fond of the dainty set up – always thought it just screamed _Grandma Rose._ But now, sitting in the passenger seat of Bellamy Blake’s old pickup truck and knowing very well that the only decorations his house had were the overgrown weeds that lined it, the small ceramic gnomes and gaudy flowers seemed oddly embarrassing.

From beside her, Bellamy released an amused breath, “Cute,” he said. It had been the first thing he said to her the entire car ride. The first thing either of them said. Clarke had been far too stubborn to be the first to break the silent barrier between them. If he wanted to act like a broody asshole, so be it.

So they had just sat silently, listening to the radio play softly and the occasional directions Siri had thrown out from his phone. (She was still far too new to the area to be able to navigate the streets well enough to direct him to her house.)

Clarke grabbed the door handle and moved to push it open, “Well. Thanks for the ride.” _Asshole._ She wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but whatever good thought she had earlier was completely gone. It was as if he had reinforced any barriers that were up around his mind ten-fold. She didn’t know why she kept having to remind herself she didn’t care. Whatever was going on with him was none of her business.

She was about to close the door and turn to leave when he said, “Clarke. Wait.” Something about hearing her name in his deep voice made her heart thud in her chest. She did her best to push the feeling down.

She paused and turned to face him. His hand was stretched out, phone face up in his palm.

“Your number.” he said. Clarke cocked an eyebrow at him.

He sighed heavily, “Just- put it in.”

Rolling her eyes, she complied, quickly grabbing the phone and typing her number in. Though she had to admit, her brain was a little muddled at the idea.

When Bellamy took his phone back he typed something into it and she heard the familiar trill of a message being sent.

“There. Now you have mine too.”

Clarke crossed her arms, “Uh. Why was that necessary?” She had to fight to keep her voice steady, though she wasn’t sure why.

She was expecting a snort. Or an eyeroll. An unamused look. _Anything_ but the actual reaction she received from him. The look he gave her was to serious, his tense dark eyes drawing her in.

“Text me if anything else happens, okay?”

 _Anything else._ Like the night before.

Clarke suppressed a shudder, unsure of how to reply. But before she could even attempt, he was leaning over and yanking the door shut between them. She barely had time to step back before he was pulling out of the driveway and driving down her street.

Later that day, when everything was finally calm after calling her friends and reassuring them over and over that she was _fine,_ she finally pulled up the message from the unknown number. It read three simple words.

_You are safe._

+++

The following Monday, Clarke had convinced her grandmother to allow her to skip school. She wasn’t normally one to do something like that, but she felt she deserved it. After… all that had happened during the weekend. If there was one thing she learned from her therapist back home, it was that the mind needs breaks sometimes. Besides, she was already basically caught up with the schoolwork she needed completed, so it couldn’t have hurt.

That, however, did not mean she was let off of work. So as per usual, she was at The Creamery by 4:30 sharp. Making coffees and dealing with the occasional snobby customer. It had been over a week since she started, and she already knew how awful some of them could be. But still, she loved the small coffee shop and couldn’t imagine working any place else.

It was a few hours into her shift when the little girl walked in. Clarke recognized her immediately, as in the small time that she had been working at The Creamery the girl seemed to frequent it. She was a scrawny little thing, with mousy brown hair and always wearing the same tattered old hoodie that seemed much too big for her. And though Clarke had grown to look forward to the young girl’s visits, she had yet to hear her even say a word.

From behind the front counter Clarke watched as the girl moved to the corner table she most often occupied and pulled out a small book. It was what she did every time she came to the coffee shop. Never buying any sweets, never causing a hassle with any of the other customers. Just simply sitting quietly with her nose stuck in the same worn-down book.  And she usually stayed that way until the store closed at nine. Alyssa never seemed to mind. Seemed used to it, in fact. She must have done this long before Clarke had begun working there.

There had been many times that Clarke wanted to go and sit with her. Introduce herself and at least get the girl’s name. But every time something had happened and she had to take care of a customer or clean up a mess or stock the bakery case. And by the time Clarke got off at the end of the night, the little girl was long gone, not a trace of her in sight.

No matter, Clarke had grown to find comfort in her presence. Even if she hadn’t said a single word in all the times that she’d seen her. And this time was no different. A smile tugged at Clarke’s lips as the girl sat back and opened her book as if there were no one around her.

As usual, she stayed that way the rest of Clarke’s shift. Never moving save when she would scurry off to use the bathroom. As Clarke worked, she would occasionally glance over in the corner to check up on the young girl. She never returned the gaze, though she wished she would. Clarke always found herself wondering why no parents ever accompanied her. Or how they could possibly have let her – the girl couldn’t have been older than ten years old – stay out so late by herself. When she herself was ten, Abby hardly ever let her leave the yard without the presence of at least her childhood friend Wells.

When it was nearing closing and the sun had receded from the sky, Clarke found herself not as busy as she usually was. The customers were gone, the case all stocked and ready for the next day… and the young girl still sat, quietly minding her own business in the corner. Before she could decide against it, Clarke grabbed a cookie from the case, wrapped it up and then headed to the corner where the girl sat.

She didn’t seem to notice Clarke’s presence until she hesitantly scraped the chair across from her backwards and sat down. Looking up, the girl blinked. Her expression at first portrayed confusion and then quickly turned to one of defense.

She pushed her own chair back as if she was about to run away but Clarke put up her hands, “Wait-“

The girl paused and hesitantly met Clarke’s gaze. Clarke found it to be surprisingly intense for a girl of such a young age. She offered her the cookie, attempting to display a friendly expression on her face. The girl only looked down at it.

“It’s okay, you can take it,” Clarke urged her, “It’s on me.”

The girl smiled slightly, reaching her tiny hand and taking it from Clarke’s grasp. Still, she said nothing.

“My name is Clarke.” Clarke said.

The girl pursed her lips, as if contemplating whether or not she should actually risk talking to somebody she didn’t know. Her grip tightened on the book in her hands protectively. Clarke glanced down and noticed that it was a copy of one of her own favorites.

“ _Little Women._ Is that your favorite book? I see you read it all the time.” Clarke said softly.

The girl nodded.

“It’s one of my favorites too. My… my dad used to read it to me before bed.”

The little girl’s eyes brightened, “Me too,” she squeaked. Clarke felt her face break into a smile.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked her, hoping it wouldn’t scare her off again. But when the little girl sat back and took a large bite out of the cookie, she knew she had gotten through to her. Clarke relaxed a little.

“Madi,” she said around the cookie in her mouth. Clarke released a small laugh at that.

“Well Madi, who’s your favorite character? In the book, I mean.”

“Jo. Duhh.” Madi said as if it were obvious. Clarke laughed outright this time.

“Mine is Amy.” Clarke said. And for a moment she was reminded of the rare nights her father was home and able to put her to bed. Whenever Amy was mentioned in the book he would always poke her in the stomach and say how much she reminded him of his own artist daughter. It had always made Clarke smile from ear to ear.

“She’s cool too.” Madi said, “Just not as cool as Jo.”

“Yeah yeah,” Clarke said. Then she cocked her head, “How old are you Madi?”

“Don’t you know that’s not a nice thing to ask a lady?” Madi said, screwing up her face. Clarke barked a laugh. She decided she liked this girl already.

“My bad, my bad. Will it help if I tell you how old I am? I’m seventeen.”

Madi crossed her arms, “I’m nine.”

 _Nine?_ Clarke refrained from widening her eyes. What kind of parent allowed their nine-year-old kid to stay out by themselves this late?

“Madi… Why are you always here by yourself? Where are your parents?” She couldn’t help herself but ask it. She had to know.

When Madi’s smile disappeared and the shutters settled over her eyes again, Clarke knew she made a mistake.

“I gotta go.” Madi muttered, standing abruptly and causing the chair to scrape backwards.

“Wait, Madi –“ Clarke attempted. But Madi didn’t listen.

“I gotta go,” she repeated, “Daddy doesn’t like when I talk to strangers. I have to go home now.”

“I – okay. Do you need a ride home? I can take you just as soon as we close up-“ Clarke said desperately, reaching forward and grabbing Madi softly by the wrist. She didn’t care how many times the girl had walked home by herself in the dark, the way she was freaking out made her incredibly suspicious. Not to mention how dangerous it already was.

“No!” Madi exclaimed, yanking her hand away as if she’d been burned. Her yell echoed through the empty shop and Clarke flinched unintentionally.

There was a rustle from within the kitchen and moments later Alyssa appeared from within, a concerned look on her face.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, but when her gaze landed on Madi her eyes widened.

In that same moment, Madi made a mad dash for the exit before Clarke could protest any more. As she watched through the window, the mousy and indignant girl disappeared into the darkness.

Clarke looked at Alyssa sadly as she walked toward her “I… I didn’t mean to scare her…” she said, shoulders hunching.

Alyssa placed a firm hand on her back, “It’s okay. It’s happened to all of us. Madi’s been coming around her for a little over a year now. We’ve all had our talks with her. Every time somebody asks about her parents, she takes off.

“Really? But… Why hasn’t anybody stopped her? Tried to help her?”

Alyssa looked down, “We have. It never ends well.”

“But-“

“Get back to work, Clarke. Please. We close in ten minutes.” Alyssa interrupted her. And then she walked back behind the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.

She wasn’t telling her something, Clarke could feel it. There was something going on with Madi… She’d never seen a kid get that frightened before in her life. Not at something as simple as a question. It just wasn’t… normal. There was no way she was going to let this go – Clarke wasn’t that type of person. She wouldn’t allow the weight to bear on her conscience. Couldn’t.

These thoughts haunted her all throughout the rest of her shift. All throughout her drive home. While she was taking a shower and getting ready for bed. She wanted to help Madi. She was too young. Too sweet to be going through whatever it was that frightened her to leave like she did.

As she brushed her teeth, a million different things swum through her head– the things that happened over the weekend. The Blakes and their family situation. The ever-looming presence of what had already happened so many months ago. And now Madi. The quiet girl at her work place that carried _Little Women_ around with her and seemed to read it so often that the cover was almost falling off.

When had her life decided to become so complicated? When had she begun to find it normal?

She was finally settling into her bed, blanket tucked up around her face, when the phone on her bedside table began to buzz.

She groaned, lifting it to see who could possibly be calling her at ten o’clock at night. When she saw, her blood ran cold in her veins.

It was her mother.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss me an ask on Tumblr: pterparkcr.tumblr.com


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